Hamish's high school years
by fantasybean
Summary: Hamish is at high school! Welcome to the world of education, bullies, obstacles and maybe even some hormones! Sequel to 'Hamish Watson-Holmes'. Hamish age 11-16.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: This is a sequel of 'Hamish Watson Holmes', I strongly suggest you read that before you read this to know what's going on. Thank you! I hope you enjoy this and please review! **

"You look smart! Come on, picture!" John said, getting the camera out.

Hamish wore grey trousers, a white shirt with a blue and black stripy tie, a black V-neck jumper and a black blazer with the school logo on the front pocket. He looked smart, he'd combed his curly hair so it sat neatly on his head and had had a fifteen minute shower the night before. He was very nervous about high school. Brydon High was where he was off to and with no friends going with him. The eleven year old hoped to any higher power out there that he could bring forth any people-skills he had inherited from his dad.

John took a few pictures and then Sherlock said "Right, well most parents are taking their kids to school on the first day. Mycroft has leant us one of his cars because we woke up late. Come on then."

They left the house and all got into the nice car. When they pulled up beside the school where there were so many new students and tall teenagers Hamish looked across from himself to where his dads sat. Mycroft's cars had seats opposite each other.

John unbuckled his belt and went to Hamish's side of the car "It'll be fine, alright? Everyone else is just as nervous as you, trust me." He said, taking Hamish's small hand and giving it a supportive squeeze.

"What if they don't like me?" Hamish asked, staring out the window, deducing all the people and thinking he wouldn't fit in with any of them.

"It is most likely that you will find someone who likes you." Sherlock said with a small encouraging smile.

"The bell is going to go in a minute." John said gently.

"Okay. Bye dad, papa." Hamish turned to John and gave him a hug, John pressed a kiss to his son's temple, Hamish was holding on to John for longer than necessary. He didn't want to let go of safety. He wanted anything but to get out of the car. But he plucked up the courage and pulled away then crossed over to Sherlock and gave him a hug. Sherlock kissed Hamish's head and then Hamish turned and got out of the car just after his dads called "Bye! Love you! Have a good day!" and other such things. Hamish waved and mouthed "I love you too." After the car door shut. He couldn't see into the car but he knew they could see out. Then he headed into school.

Sherlock and John watched him till he was all the way in the building then John sat back in his seat and the car started driving again. Sherlock took John's hand.

"Another step." John said.

"Yes. Hey, John, you remember his first baby steps?" Sherlock smiled.

John smiled too "Such a proud moment. It's funny, because when he took his first steps I was equally as proud of Hay as I am now. But I'm more scared now because we're not standing right behind him to catch him when he falls." He explained.

Sherlock nodded "I feel the same. Completely."

"He'll always be our little Hamish." John said.

Hamish hated this stupid school. I mean, the teachers were okay and the facilities were good. But he hated it because he was yet to find a friend, or anyone really. It seemed everyone in all his classes had come to the school amongst people from their old schools. He sat quietly at his desk at lunch time, everyone had just gone outside. He had been outside at break time and found himself just wandering around on his own.

A teacher walked in with a few books.

"Excuse me." Hamish said.

"Yes?" the man asked.

"Is the library open at lunch?" Hamish asked.

"Yes." The man nodded.

Hamish picked up his bag and went to the library. He got out a book and just sat and read until lessons started and he spent the rest of the day alone and bored and wanting to go home.

Once he was outside the school he jogged to the car he recognised and climbed in to find both his parents there.

"Good day?" John smiled hopefully after giving him a one-armed hug.

Hamish wanted to lie, to say it had been great and he had a friend. But he couldn't. And he knew lying did nothing to help a situation.

Hamish shook his head in negative.

"You didn't make any friends?" Sherlock deduced.

"No." Hamish sighed.

The car started and pulled away from the school and Sherlock pulled Hamish into his side. Hamish sighed and leant into his papa. A tear slipped down his cheek and he sniffled.

"I'm sorry it didn't go too well." John said and ran a hand through Hamish's hair. Hamish nodded and sniffed.

"I know… I know it's difficult not having friends. I know being lonely is a horrid feeling. But it'll be okay. You'll find someone. And even if you don't, you have us, and you have Gavin at the other end of the phone." Sherlock said.

"But… I don't want to be lonely there. I spent fifteen minutes of break just wandering around the playground and every lesson people got into little groups and every group I was in had people I didn't like in it and they didn't include me because I wasn't their friend. Everyone knew someone! I had nobody. But at lunch I went to the library." Hamish said.

"I wish there was something we could do. But… making friends is something you have to do yourself. Nobody else can really help in that area. It'll be alright." John comforted.

"Maybe… I'll try again tomorrow." Hamish said.

That evening John and Sherlock tried to make it a nice evening. Mrs Hudson cooked Hamish's favourite meal. And they put a DVD on and all settled on the sofa to watch it. They all fell asleep together on the sofa, Hamish between his parents.

At around eleven John woke up and stretched, he looked to his right and saw his husband and son fast asleep with the same peaceful look on their face.

"Hay, come on, sweetheart, wake up." John said, standing. Hamish yawned and John helped him stand up. Hamish leant against John and John soon had him tucked up in bed and settled in sleep.

John went back downstairs and woke Sherlock and they both went to bed, snuggled under the covers together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

Hamish lay in his bedroom after his horrid second day at school. Suddenly he heard some shouting downstairs, he was about to get up, fearing someone had got in the house when he heard that it was the familiar sound of his parents' voices. He went to the door and opened it and sat at the top of the stairs and listened.

"No! Do you not understand that we have to stay here? We have duties and responsibilities! Firstly, Hamish!" John shouted.

"Oh, I understand that! I'm not an idiot! But that's fine; it's a one-week-tops case! He can come with us!" Sherlock protested "Or stay with Mycroft and Greg!" he added.

"No! It's his first week at school! High school! It's getting important for him! We are staying here! And Mycroft, Greg and Sam are all going to your parents' house! You know that! Sam's school doesn't start till next week!" John said.

"He is far above average; he doesn't need to catch up because he is always ahead of the other kids!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Not just education! Relationships! He needs to make friends, and going away on his third day of school will not help that!" John shouted.

"Oh, for goodness sake, John! You're treating him like he's four. He'll be fine! He's not stupid!" Sherlock shouted.

"He's very intelligent, but he is not doing well at socialising!" John said.

"Oh, because of me, you mean?" Sherlock said.

"No, sort of! Just… you know some parts of his development were slowed because of his kidnapping! He was four, a vital part of development with people and such and he was kidnapped and in some respects that has made him different from other kids! It's not your fault! It's Moriarty's!" John sounded irritated.

"John. Yes, it is very obvious that he is close to us, but he is eleven! He's not a teenager yet! He has time to grow socially! And come on, he's our son, did you really expect him to be normal?" Sherlock sounded equally as irritated.

"Enough! He is not going to Scotland! Nor are we!" John said and slammed something down, probably a book or something.

"You've changed." Sherlock said disdainfully.

"Sorry?" John asked.

"You used to love our adventures, our cases. Now you're a dad and it's all 'Hamish this, Hamish that'." Sherlock grumbled.

"I'm being a father. But at this moment you are putting your work first!" John exclaimed.

"No! I'm saying he can stay with us." Sherlock said.

"He needs to go to school!" John pushed.

Hamish ran downstairs "Stop it!" he shouted, running between his stood parents in the living room.

"Stay out of this, Hamish. This is between me and your Pa. Go back to bed." John said.

"And you expect me to be able to sleep when you're shouting?" Hamish queried.

"Hey, don't get cheeky with me, young man." John frowned.

"Just stop shouting! I hate it!" Hamish said.

"It's alright, couples fight, but that's okay." John said more gently.

"There you go treating him like he's two again." Sherlock grumbled.

"Right." John stood straight, like a soldier, then walked over to the couch, grabbed his coat and made his way out.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Out. Air." John said shortly.

"Wait! Dad!" Hamish called after him.

"Later!" John shouted behind him and the front door slammed when he left.

"He hasn't done that in ages." Sherlock commented.

"Will he come back? He looked really angry." Hamish said "He went all soldier-like and silent."

"He'll be back. He just seems to like walking around to organise his thoughts." Sherlock threw himself down on the sofa and sat there grumpily.

"Erm… pa, I want to go to Scotland." Hamish said and sat in John's armchair.

"You want to get away from that school. You hate having to go there and try to make friends when you can't; we both know you probably won't. It's been two days. Everyone's knitting their groups shut." Sherlock stated cruelly.

Hamish's eyes widened and he ran up to his room. He was so… distraught at his pa. He was too blunt sometimes.

He took his slippers off and put trainers on, then took his dressing gown off and put his coat on over his pyjamas. Then he ran downstairs and out the front door, he could hear his pa running after him, also in his pyjamas, but without a coat and only a dressing gown. Sherlock's slippers were basically normal shoes so with slippers he was fine.

Hamish knew the streets of London almost as well as Sherlock and he ran, trying to get away. He was so angry, how dare his dad talk to him about his inability to make friends and sound so careless about it.

"Hamish, you come back here now!" Sherlock shouted after him and they had turned off of Baker Street by now. People had to budge out of the way to avoid the running child and his dad.

Hamish had been running for about five minutes and was in the middle of a big crowd of clubbers and he looked behind himself and found no sign of his papa. He slowed down and then the worry set in. He tried to believe that it was fine, he had ran intending to be away from his papa, but he didn't feel safe knowing nobody was there watching him.

An idea popped into Hamish's head. He looked up to a security camera and gave it a shy wave. It wiggled up and down, as if to nod. And two minutes later a car pulled up.

Hamish got in and found his Uncles and cousin in the car.

"Now, you are lucky we were just heading to a restaurant. So, why would an eleven year old have any business running around the busy London streets at nine o'clock at night in his pyjamas?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, Mycroft, no need to be so smug." Lestrade admonished him "What were you doing? Where are your dads?" he asked.

"They had a fight. Papa has a case in Scotland, it'll last a week. And dad said that I needed to stay here, that we should all stay here because I… I'm having… trouble making any friends at Brydon high. And I couldn't afford to go off to Scotland. And I went downstairs to tell them to stop and when dad was explaining that sometimes couples fight and it's okay papa said that he was treating me like I was two again and that he always does it. And dad stormed out for some air. And I said to papa that I wanted to go to Scotland and he said that if course I did. And he said that I wanted that so I didn't have to go to school and that I'll probably not make any friends at all. He was really… cruel. So I ran out of the house and he was running after me for ten minutes and then I got lost in a crowd and he wasn't following me anymore and so I waved at the camera." Hamish explained in a rush.

"Right. Well. Okay." Lestrade stammered.

Mycroft coolly told the driver to head for Baker Street and then turned to his nephew "My brother sometimes doesn't thing before he talks. You've been lucky; he barely ever says anything cruel to you, or to your dad for that matter. But I think he's just distracted. I'm sure it's an intriguing case and your dads will come to a decision of what to do. My brother prefers to have John with him on a case, that's why they're having a fight over what'll happen with you. I have seen for quite some time that both my brother and brother-in-law may not always treat you like an eleven year old, but that's because you're not an average eleven year old. You're incredibly clever, intellectually, you have common sense. You are very brave. But you lack certain skills that you should have developed. At the age of eleven children are normally reliant on their parents, but I think you're a little more attached because of your… experience… during and after your kidnapping." Mycroft explained.

"That's what dad said. They both said I wasn't normal." Hamish lowered his head.

"Ah! Here we are!" Mycroft announced as they pulled up at Baker Street.

Sherlock had lost Hamish in a crowd, attempted to find him again, but had failed. He ran to Baker Street to get his phone to ring Mycroft and just outside the door he slammed into John.

"What are you doing? Why are you outside? Where's Hamish?" John frowned.

"He ran! He ran outside and I lost him in a crowd! We need to ring Mycroft!" Sherlock said, alarmed.

Suddenly a familiar car pulled up and the door opened. Mycroft was first out, then Hamish trudged out, looking very sheepish.

"I believe you lost something." Mycroft commented.

Sherlock rushed forward and pulled Hamish into a hug then pulled away and said "Do not do that again!"

"Sorry." Hamish said.

"I believe we should leave you to it. I think Hamish wants to talk to you." Mycroft ducked back into his car gracefully and shut the door.

"Come on, inside, we'll all catch a cold." John said quietly and the three went inside.

Hamish sat on the sofa while Sherlock took his own armchair and John stood by the fireplace.

"I know I'm not normal." Hamish said quietly.

"Wh-"Hamish cut his dad off.

"I was the first child ever to be born from two men with that science thing. And I'm from both of you! You're both… unique. And that makes me different. I'm cleverer than everyone in my class. I don't make friends easily. The only friend I've had in my life is Gavin. One friend." Hamish sighed.

"We wouldn't have you any other way. Being different makes you special and you are special." Sherlock explained.

"I'm not going to change who I am. But… you know when I was kidnapped?" Hamish queried.

His parents nodded.

"I think that changed me. Mycroft said I'm more reliant on the both of you than other eleven year old's are with their parents. And I know that because you saw me get hurt you 'baby' me. So… maybe we can all try to… I don't know…" Hamish put his head in his hands.

"We can try to develop ourselves." John said "I could try to not… baby you, as you put it… so much."

"You'll make friends, Hay." Sherlock said.

"No. You were right. I need a miracle." Hamish said.

The room was quiet for a moment before Hamish said "I want to go to Scotland for the case."

"Let me talk to your Pa now. Go to bed, get a good night's sleep and we'll tell you what's going to happen in the morning." John said.

"Okay. Night." Hamish said, he got up and gave his parents each a hug before going up to bed and falling asleep quite quickly, exhausted from the night's exploits.

Downstairs John sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair and Sherlock put an arm around him and pulled him into his lap. John sighed a little more contently and relaxed in his husband's arms.

"This case… it's a big one?" John asked.

"Yes." Sherlock nodded "Serial killer. I was requested all the way from Scotland."

"I just… when I got back from Afghanistan I was so lonely. Nobody to turn to. I didn't… I didn't fit in, to tell the truth. I was just a crippled man who couldn't do anything anymore. Nobody understood me. Thank God I met you. So… with Hamish, this whole friendless situation is… I can feel it. He doesn't fit in, and nobody at his school can understand his life, can understand his mind or why he is what he is and does what he does. He has nobody at school to look after him. And I'm just scared. I want him to go to school and make friends and I worry that if we pull him out for a week now that when he goes back in everyone will have mingled and chosen their groups and sort of settled and he'll still just be floating round, looking for someone who could be a friend." John explained.

"I understand that. But to be honest I know that won't help. I think they've all chosen who they want to be friends with, and I think none of them want to get close to him. Maybe if we took a break he could calm down, he looks so stressed over this scenario of friendship. Just a one week break, he can have some fun, help us on the case with the safe parts, and then go back with a bit more confidence maybe and start again and try to go back in to that school with positive eyes." Sherlock said.

"Hmm… it's a week of education." John commented.

"Education he has already probably learnt." Sherlock counteracted.

"Fine. Fine, I'll ring the school in the morning, explain that we have urgent work and he needs to accompany us and that'll be that. When do we leave in the morning? And by train or car?" John queried.

"Car's best." Sherlock said.

There were a few minutes of silence where they were both in thought. Sherlock was absentmindedly caressing John's back.

"I'm sorry if I've changed." John said quietly.

"You've changed. I've changed. I'm sorry for what I said; I was in a state of emotion. You changed. But you see, you turned into something even more beautiful." Sherlock said.

John gave a small smile "You think?"

"I know." Sherlock said with a tiny smile.

John pulled Sherlock in for a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

John woke up early in the morning and packed his and Sherlock's bags. He didn't wake Sherlock up because as soon as the case started he wouldn't sleep much. John put his and Sherlock's bag by the door and then fed Gladstone and took him out for a walk.

Once he got back he went to Hamish's room and quietly packed a bag for his son and once that was done he put it by the door.

Then he went downstairs and put the toast in the toaster and went back upstairs to wake Hamish.

"Hay, son, wakey, wakey!" John brushed his son's curly hair away from his forehead and Hamish started waking up. His eyes started flickering open and closed and he slowly stretched and moved around under the covers.

"Dad?" Hamish woke and yawned.

John gave him a small smile "Yeah. Hay, we're going to Scotland, alright?" John asked.

Hamish gave a small smile and another stretch.

"I packed your bag, you can pack any extra stuff you want and get dressed. But be quick, breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." John said, ruffled Hamish's hair and left.

Then John went to his own room and smiled fondly at his husband, who lay on his stomach and had a peaceful look on his face.

John crawled onto the bed and lay his body on top of Sherlock's.

"Mmm." Sherlock made a sound.

John kissed his cheek gently and said "Morning, love."

"Mornin'… mm, this is nice." Sherlock mumbled.

John smiled and leant his head down and kissed Sherlock's lips.

Hamish was soon dressed and had packed an extra bag full of books and bits and bobs to do when in Scotland.

He went downstairs just as the toast popped up and shouted "Dad! Breakfast is ready!" when he couldn't see John in the living room or kitchen.

Half a minute later Hamish was tucking into toast and Sherlock and John came through. John was fully dressed while Sherlock was still in his pyjamas and was walking behind John, his hands placed on John's hips as he followed him round.

Sherlock let go in the end and sat down. John dished up their toast and they all tucked in.

"Have you booked a hotel, love?" Sherlock queried.

"Yes. We don't have much money at the moment to get a nice one. But we got a decent one. Family room with an en-suite bathroom." John explained.

"Well I won't be doing much sleeping. But it sounds decent." Sherlock said and then added "And what about the car?"

"Mycroft's sent us one, it's outside. Who's driving?" John asked.

"Can you? I think I'll have another look through the files." Sherlock said.

"Sure." John nodded. He didn't drive much, but he could.

The three put their bags in the car and got in. Hamish sat in the back while Sherlock sat in the passenger seat and John sat in the driver's. It was a decently sized car, comfortable for the long journey from London to Scotland.

About an hour into the journey Hamish was reading, as was Sherlock. Sherlock had his eyes tracing the words and pictures, consuming information others had got together for the case. Hamish was reading a book of fiction.

"Dad?" Hamish asked, a little shakily.

"Yes, Hay?" John asked, eyes fixed on the road.

"I feel sick." Hamish said quietly.

"Put the book away. Sometimes on long journeys it isn't a good idea to read." John advised.

Hamish put the book away and put his hand on his stomach.

After three minutes he said "I really don't feel well."

"We're on the motorway. It isn't safe to pull over. There's a service station in… ten minutes. Are you alright?" John asked.

Hamish nodded but tried to breathe evenly and carefully.

Once another five minutes was gone Hamish said "Dad! I think I'm going to be sick!" in alarm.

"I can't pull over. Deep breaths, Hay, deep breaths." John said.

"John, slow down and drive carefully." Sherlock said quickly then unbuckled his belt and climbed through the middle and into the back. He buckled himself into the middle seat and put a hand on Hamish's back.

"It's alright. John, put the air conditioning on." Sherlock said.

John made the car cooler and Sherlock tried to make Hamish feel better.

Finally they arrived at the service station and Hamish sat on a bench, feeling better once he wasn't in the moving vehicle and had fresh air.

The eleven year old detested feeling ill.

"Feeling better?" John asked.

"Lots." Hamish nodded, sighing in content that his stomach had relaxed.

"Right, well we'll do a toilet stop here. Do you want a drink and a snack?" John asked.

Hamish nodded. The three went to the loo, went to the shop and had a drink and some sweets.

Hamish felt much better and went back into the car a lot happier than when he came out.

On the last part of the journey the boredom set in for both Sherlock and Hamish and they moaned and complained for ages.

"You know what?" John said, exasperated "You, Sherlock, could just go to sleep for now or go to your mind palace. And you, Hamish, you used to sleep through these long journeys!"

"I'm bigger now! I don't sleep in the day at all, it makes me feel weird." Hamish explained.

"Okay, well that's fine." John said.

"I'm thinking of creating a mind-bedroom, papa!" Hamish suddenly proclaimed.

"Really?" Sherlock asked, pride and fondness in his voice "What for and why just a bedroom?"

"Well, I want to have a mind-bedroom because really important things I need to remember need somewhere safe to go. I remember a lot, but I want some organisation in my mind! It's a bit chaotic, and it's getting more so, papa! And a bedroom, well, I'm thinking to start off somewhere familiar! And if I need more room I can make a flat or a house!" Hamish smiled.

Sherlock smiled "You know, I was just a few years younger than you are now when I decided to make a mind-palace. It's tricky at first, but it gets easier, and look at me now!" he said.

"Yeah!" Hamish smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

They arrived in Scotland and went straight to the hotel. They entered the room and found one double bed, one singular which lay at the end of the double bed, pushed against the wall. Then there was a window and an en-suite bathroom. There was a table and three chairs and that was it. It was simple and nice and comfortable for their stay during the case.

Hamish put his bags on his bed, sat on it and looked around.

"Well, this'll do. I think the crime-scene will be open for you to view in about an hour, love." John told Sherlock, who was looking out the window.

"Okay. Hamish? Would you like to accompany us for this case?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish's eyes lit up "Really?"

"Sherlock, it isn't graphic, is it?" John warned.

"Just a bit of blood and a body. Nothing too nasty visually. Though there may be rape involved." Sherlock said.

"That's okay. I understand. It's a nasty business, but it happens and it's your job, and mine maybe, to stop it!" Hamish said firmly.

"Okay then." John conceded.

"Yes! Can I help?" he asked.

"Of course. A second pair of genius eyes is always nice." Sherlock smiled.

Hamish grinned.

An hour later the three went to an old abandoned house and found a group of police officers huddled together.

"Hello, you sent for us?" John called and they all turned.

"Mr Holmes and Dr Watson?" a strong Scottish accent queried.

"That's us." John nodded and shook the man's hand.

"Who's the kid? What is he, nine?" another man asked.

"He's our son." Sherlock said.

"And I'm eleven." Hamish interjected.

"Are you sure it isn't a bit gruesome for a kid?" a woman asked.

"It's fine, I've seen some photos you texted me three hours ago. So, this is the fourth body?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." A man nodded.

They all went up to a bedroom in this old, creaking, empty house. When they entered Hamish gripped onto the sleeve of Sherlock's coat.

"Alright?" John asked.

"Fine." Hamish nodded.

On the bed lay a man in a suit. He had a stab wound to the stomach, his eyes were wide open and he was a cold pale corpse.

"John, cause?" Sherlock asked.

John leant over the body and did some checks "I'd say the stab wound… though it seems like he should have lost more blood to have died, and it doesn't look like the knife hit any organs." John frowned.

"Maybe it wasn't the stab wound that did it." Hamish suggested.

"Maybe." John gave an encouraging smile.

Hamish let go of Sherlock's sleeve as the man went forward and inspected the body.

Hamish slowly edged forward and leant over. He frowned as he saw something poking out of the man's pocket. He took his dad's hand, pulled off the plastic glove, and put it on his own hand, then opened the pocket and pulled out a bloody piece of paper.

He opened it and saw that there was a corner without blood and a biro marked the words _'He wants m-' _and the rest is cut off by the bloodstain.

"Papa, it says 'He wants m'. Do you think that has anything to do with it?" Hamish passed the paper to Sherlock who frowned at it.

"It's evidence for now. Come along, I have what I want for now." Sherlock said and the three left.

Back at the hotel Sherlock started laying out lots of evidence and papers.

"So, fourth murder, all in the same building. Every time the police leave guarding it after a while a new body turns up, exactly the same stab wound on each body. But every medical man who has looked at the bodies has said that it didn't look like the stab wound or blood-loss could have killed a person. Blood tests and such have been looked at and there are no differences or drug traces, so, how were they murdered? I think it is very unlikely that the stab wound killed them. Oh, and the victims (all male) were penetrated through the anus by a penis, but no semen was found. No finger prints, nothing. It was as if this person was completely alone for hours before and after. Also, though they were penetrated, it didn't look like they gave a struggle. And also, they were fully-clothed as if nothing as such had happened." Sherlock said.

"Nothing connects, papa." Hamish said.

Hamish understood what he were talking about with the penetration. In this day and age by the age of eleven and with a mind like Hamish's he knew the basics of sex, and with his parents' jobs he also knew about rape.

"It was like he was killed with the knife, but he may not have been. It was like he was raped, but he may not have been. It was like someone was there, but there is also no evidence that anyone was there!" Hamish elaborated.

"Hmm." Sherlock agreed "Quite the mystery." He said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

As the night drew on Sherlock remained sat working through the papers and photos and information he had. John tried to help him but didn't have much to offer in what Sherlock was thinking about.

At about half past nine John ruffled Hamish's hair, the boy was sitting in the chair next to Sherlock's and was reading his book. Hamish looked up at the ruffling of his hair and gave a small smile to his dad.

"Come on, bed time." John said.

"Can I finish this chapter? Only two pages left!" Hamish asked.

"Sure. But then shower, teeth and bed!" John said.

Hamish nodded and returned to his book. Once he finished he went to the bathroom and showered, then got his warm pyjamas on, brushed his teeth, and got into bed.

He lay there and watched his parents quietly converse in the corner of the room. He couldn't sleep. It was always difficult to sleep when not in your own home.

"Dad?" he called out.

"I thought you were asleep!" John said, surprised, as he turned in the chair to look over at his son.

"I can't sleep." Hamish said.

John stood up. He was used to the occasional night where Hamish had trouble sleeping, and used to many nights where Sherlock had the same problem. He sat on the edge of the bed and Hamish closed his eyes and moved closer to his parent. John smiled gently down at his son and ran his hands through Hamish's hair repetitively. Hamish's breathing slowly evened out and slowed until he was deeply asleep. John pressed a kiss to his temple then stood and returned to sitting beside his husband. Sherlock looked over at Hamish and saw him fast asleep, then shared a smile with John that conveyed their 'aww, he's still our little Hamish' thoughts, then he returned to work.

At around three in the morning John slowly nodded off against Sherlock's shoulder, as soon as his head fell upon the shoulder he woke again "Ohh," he said tiredly "time for bed." And slowly got up and changed into his pyjamas and got ready for bed.

He looked over at Sherlock, who had tired eyes.

"Sherlock, love, come to bed, come on." John put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders.

"No, I have to work." Sherlock said.

"Three hours, all I ask. You've been awake sine five, that means… twenty two hours you've been awake. We're just in the research stages of the case. Three hours, not long, but a good enough time to be able to be nice and wide-eyed for tomorrow. I mean, two hours would be enough, but I'd like you to have a nice sleep." John said.

Sherlock sighed "Alright." He said and got up. He changed into his pyjamas and got ready for bed. John was sat in bed with nothing but the bed-side lamp giving the room light.

Sherlock smiled at him and sat next to him. John was watching Hamish sleep with a fond smile. Sherlock looked over and saw Hamish curled up, fast asleep, his hair all messy from moving around occasionally in the night and he looked very peaceful.

"Do you remember when he used to get all tired and snuggly when he was like, four or five?" John said, entwining his hand with Sherlock's.

Sherlock chuckled and nodded "I remember when he was eight and he got really grumpy and then he just flopped and fell right asleep on the spot, I think he had spent the whole previous night reading and that finally caught up with him."

"He does love his books!" John grinned.

They looked at each other, smiling.

"I am so happy." John said.

"Me too." Sherlock nodded, leant in, and kissed John gently.

When they pulled away John turned around, switched off the lamp, then snuggled up next to Sherlock and they fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Explanation for this late update at end of chapter.**

In the morning Sherlock was first to wake up, he stretched in bed, turned to watch John sleep for a moment, quite content to stare at the man's face, then he sat up, looked to the end of the bed where Hamish's bed was and smiled. Hamish wasn't a great sleeper, he did so many different things, it was like he couldn't settle! He had sleep-talked, sleep-walked, and he moved around a lot. Sherlock looked down and saw his son had fallen out of the bed, but it wouldn't have made much of a noise, as the duvet had fallen first and the bed was low.

Sherlock stood up, yawned, then walked to Hamish's side, picked him up, and placed him on the bed. Hamish was the size of a nine year old and was really quite light. He then bent down, lifted the duvet up, and lay it on his son, making it comfortable.

Hamish rolled onto his side and put his thumb in his mouth. Sherlock almost laughed, that old habit occasionally came forth. Every now and then Sherlock would catch Hamish with his thumb about to be put in his mouth, he wouldn't say anything, he'd just watch to see what Hamish did. The boy would normally frown, shake his head, and put his hand in his pocket. Sherlock carefully pulled Hamish's thumb out and ran a gentle hand through his hair. It was very early; he didn't want to wake him up.

Sherlock put a lamp on at the table and got back to working on the case.

Hamish was next to wake up, about seven in the morning it was.

"Good morning." Sherlock said without looking up from a piece of paper he held in his hand, a small focussed frown on his face.

"Mornin'." Hamish mumbled and got up, he shivered "It's cold."

"Hmm…" Sherlock said, obviously not really listening.

"Papa, I'm cold." Hamish repeated a little louder.

Sherlock sighed in irritation then looked away from the paper "Put a dressing gown on then." He said.

"My feet will still be cold then." Hamish said.

"Then put your slippers on." Sherlock said, shuffling a few papers around.

"Dad didn't pack me any. All I have are my trainers. And those thin socks." Hamish scowled.

"Well figure something out for yourself." Sherlock said.

"You've spoiled my morning." Hamish said grumpily, he looked around for a moment, Sherlock watched him. Hamish, after a moment of thinking, climbed into his parents' bed and lay his head on John's chest, he pulled the covers up so it covered up to his shoulder, gave a sniff, then mumbled "Dad doesn't ruin my morning." grumpily.

Sherlock felt a little bad. Hamish liked nice mornings; he liked to just be able to bumble along peacefully. He always had.

What made Sherlock feel even guiltier was that then, in his sleep, John wrapped an arm around his son, as if sensing the boy's presence and wanting to give him some comfort.

Sherlock returned to his work, feeling a little more down, but still focusing on the case.

About ten minutes later Sherlock looked back over at Hamish and saw that he looked a bit bored, like he was content in that spot, he didn't want to move, but he wanted something.

Sherlock stood up, got Hamish's book from next to his bed, and then passed it to him with a small smile.

Hamish smiled and took it and started reading happily.

About half an hour later Hamish folded the corner of his page, he preferred having a bookmark, he didn't like any damage to books. He didn't mind folding the corner, that was alright, but he didn't like drawing or writing in it, apart from putting a name on the first page. His dad was the same, when either of them picked up a book and found Sherlock had gone through it and made notes and corrections it would leave them a bit annoyed. But Sherlock found the fact that the other two didn't make notes and corrections equally annoying. Making notes helps to take in information and corrections are necessary! But in the end they all had their preferences.

Hamish put the book on the bed side table and watched his papa work. He felt bad for what he had said.

"You didn't ruin my morning." Hamish said.

Sherlock looked over at him and gave a smile and commented with "Good."

John groaned as he woke up, in need of a good stretch.

"Huh?" he frowned as he found Hamish beside him.

"I got cold and my bed isn't very comfortable." Hamish explained.

"Oh." John nodded in understanding "If you want I can go in your bed and you can sleep in this one for the rest of the week. I've slept in far worse, I assure you." John said.

"Have you? What else have you slept in that's worse than a thin mattress with strings poking in my back?" Hamish queried curiously.

"Oh, that's why you rolled out of bed!" Sherlock said "I thought you were just restless, but you must have been subconsciously trying to get more comfortable. When I got up I put you back in your bed." Sherlock elaborated.

"Aww, did our little baba fall out of bed?" John said with his teasing voice, pretending to go all baby-talk.

"Dad!" Hamish scowled, very much like Sherlock did, and rolled over, facing away. Sherlock chuckled and returned to work.

John was soon up and about, getting ready for the day.

"Right, breakfast time!" he announced while Hamish struggled into a jumper.

"I'm hungry." Hamish said.

"You coming, Sherlock?" John asked.

"No. Work to do."

"Okay then, we'll bring you up some toast after we've eaten. And by then we can leave and go to the station to get some more information and such, you can walk and eat." John said, he and Hamish walked out, closing the door behind themselves, and they made their way to the restaurant downstairs. There were lots of little tables and chairs dotted around and a big place where you serve yourself what you want, it was all included in the price.

Father and son sat down and tucked into their cereal and jam on toast (I think we all know who had the jam on toast).

Hamish was talking animatedly about the book he was reading, he was really enjoying it and explaining it to John with a smile and lots of hand gestures. John listened and asked a few questions but they both stopped when a woman walked backwards and into John's chair.

"Oops! Sorry!" she said.

"It's alright." John dismissed it.

Her eyes fell onto the man she had knocked and her eyes widened a bit "Hi, I'm Jenny!" she said.

"John." John politely returned "This is my son, Hamish." He said, gesturing to Hamish.

She gave him a small wave but her attention was on John.

"Are you new around these parts?" she asked.

"This is a hotel. Many people are new here!" Hamish said.

"Oh. Well, do you need anyone to show you round?" she asked, licking her lips.

John was about to decline, he wasn't warming to the woman very much. She was standing too close was one amongst many reasons.

Just before John could say no Sherlock suddenly swooped in and sat beside Hamish "Do indeed show us round! You work here, yes, the receptionist?" Sherlock said.

"Erm… yes." She seemed a bit flustered by the new man's arrival, but now her interest was away from John and focussed on this tall man.

"Good. Then after we've finished our breakfast we'll meet you at the entrance to this hotel and you can take us to see some sites." Sherlock said with a fake smile.

"Of course!" she grinned, winked, and left.

"I don't like her." Hamish stated once she was gone.

"Hamish." John frowned disapprovingly "You don't know her."

"Oh, John, no need to be so nice. You don't like her either, I can tell. But she is now necessary to the case. It's time to put up some disguises-"John cut Sherlock off.

"Hold on, what? Necessary to the case how?" John asked.

"I remembered her face from the front desk when we first arrived here. She was also in the case file. I've got it all planned out, I was coming downstairs to discuss it with you when I saw her chatting to you. One of the four men was her boyfriend." Sherlock explained.

"Really? Well, she moves on quickly." John said with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, he was the second man to be murdered; it was quite a few months ago. On file it says she gave interviews and such but they found nothing. I don't suspect she has anything to do with it, but she's obviously from here, she's friendly; she knows people and what goes on. We'll get information from her." Sherlock said.

"You're using her." John said with sharp eyes.

"I'm going to get her closure for the murder of her boyfriend and save more lives, I think it is necessary. Not to worry, we'll be kind. A nice family outing with a tour guide." Sherlock said.

John sighed, he wasn't happy about this, but in the end, sometimes playing a few tricks and putting up disguises was how the cases get solved, and with the cases Sherlock picks it is usually saving someone's life or putting very, very bad men in prison.

"What disguises will we have?" Hamish asked excitedly.

"Well, I'm going to be your single Uncle. John, you have recently been left by your wife and you and your son have come with me to Scotland to do some house-hunting. I'm being the supportive brother. She'll talk to us, tell us about the town, the people, stuff like that. A worried father gets information as he's asking for the safety of his son, makes people feel empathy. And she fancies me, if all goes well she'll try to impress me and chat with me so she'll give me all I need to know." Sherlock explained.

"That's a good idea!" Hamish smiled.

"Hmm…" John looked a little apprehensive.

"I hate having to do this, John. Trust me though, it's just going to be some flirting, and I will detest every moment of it." Sherlock said, taking John's hand across the table.

"Alright then. I trust you." John smiled.

"You better." Sherlock gave a cheeky smile.

John squeezed his hand.

Hamish cleared his throat loudly and the husbands let go as Jenny re-entered the room.

"Good spot there, Hay." John said and ruffled Hamish's hair. Sherlock nodded proudly.

**Author's note:**

**15 days? I am so sorry! I've never been so long in updating! Well, I have been a little busy with organising media and film coursework, I also had an English exam, babysitting, and it snowed! So I've had a pretty ham-packed 2 weeks. Thanks for your patience! Please review! It would mean a lot!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

They met the receptionist, Jenny, at the entrance; she had refreshed her make-up and tidied her hair a little.

"Hello!" she smiled "Names again, sorry, I'm so forgetful!" she said with a grin.

"I'm John; this is my son, Hamish." John introduced and Sherlock said "I'm Sherlock, John's brother and this little one's uncle." He smiled and ruffled Hamish's hair.

She smiled in thanks and said "Well, you, mister," She said to Hamish "Look a lot like your dad and uncle."

"I get my looks from dad's side." Hamish commented smoothly.

"Cool! Right then, time to take you on the tour of this village! It's really quite small, but I've lived here for a while!" she said cheerfully and lead them out.

They started walking on the side of a road, it was really quite undeveloped, no pavements, and the roads were thin and winding.

"We just have to walk along this road for about ten minutes then we'll reach the main part of the village!" she said.

"Hamish." John prompted and held out his hand.

Hamish sighed and took John's hand "But why do I have to hold your hand? There aren't any cars and I am eleven!" Hamish complained.

"Oh, your dad's right to do that." Jenny said and elaborated with "Cars come fast round the corners and it's easier to trip on these roads. You sound like you're from London, yes? Well, here, if you aren't used to it, you can trip and hurt yourself or something. You hold on tight!" she said.

Hamish's eyes widened, he still had that believability about him, he was still a child, so his hand tightened in its grip of his dad.

Jenny was leading them, Sherlock just behind her, and Hamish and John just behind him. Jenny chatted away as they walked.

"Hey, follow me." Sherlock suddenly said and climbed into a field.

Jenny was more cautious and the last one to follow. Hamish let go of John's hand and watched as the mud of a foot-trodden path squelched under his shoes. John walked beside Sherlock, and felt the natural urge to entwine his hand or arm with Sherlock's, but he held himself back.

"Where are we going?" Jenny asked.

"I got told about this place, just trust me, I thought you could explain more for us assuming you know the area." Sherlock smiled and as they neared the end of the field they found a gravelled pathway that led to the back of a house. Specifically a house that Sherlock, John, and Hamish had visited the day before.

Jenny flinched, Sherlock was careful to watch her.

"I heard this place is cursed." Sherlock said.

John almost laughed; Sherlock didn't believe in such nonsense as curses, he was far too logical.

"Is it p-Uncle?" Hamish asked.

"I thought Jenny would know." Sherlock turned to Jenny then as he saw the hesitancy in her eyes, expression and body language, he surged forward and took her hand "Oh, come on, Jen! Tell us!"

"It isn't cursed. It's just that… people have been found dead here, one of them… I was close to. But that was a while ago." She said.

"Were they murdered or what?" Sherlock faked naivety.

"Murdered." She said quietly then added "The police haven't caught the killer."

John took the moment and pulled Hamish into his side, an arm around his son protectively. Hamish looked at the woman with wide eye then up at his dad nervously, playing the part.

"Sherlock, I think we should leave!" John said.

"Don't be silly, John." Sherlock admonished and said "We're quite safe, we have Jenny, I bet you know who to look out for, right? Every town with a mystery has their theories!"

"Well, we have one." She said.

"Oh, tell!" Sherlock said, he was completely… not Sherlock!

"Well, there is this house away from the village, but still in it. A man lives there, he's quite young, I saw him once, he looked… weird, I don't know… I just didn't like the vibe I got from him, nor does anyone else. Nobody knows anything about him. He's been here for a while, but he moved in about a month before the killings started. It's probably just people trying to make a story out of it, I don't know." She said.

"Ah, stories… often based on some truths." Sherlock smiled.

"Maybe." She nodded and looked to the floor.

"Have the police looked into this… man, what was his name again?" Sherlock queried.

"I don't know his first name, his last name is Morris. And no, I don't think so." She said.

"Interesting." Sherlock said.

Suddenly they heard footsteps.

They didn't know who it was but Sherlock and John both acted immediately at the noise. They both grabbed a hand of Hamish's each and ran, Jenny ran herself, and they all jumped over a bush and hid behind it, lying on their stomachs and watching out to see who it was that was walking up to the house. They could see in the gap between the soil and the bushes. Both Sherlock and John had an arm around Hamish, gripping tightly onto his jacket. Hamish watched with big eyes, taking it all in.

A man, young, with blonde hair, pale skin, and dark, dark eyes, walked into view. He had a rose in his hand.

"That's him. Morris." Jenny whispered.

They watched as the man entered the house, they waited, and finally the man came back out without the rose. Once he was away they stood up.

"Do you think it's him, Papa?" Hamish asked, Jenny's eyes widened at the name Hamish used for Sherlock.

"No." Sherlock stated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you very much!**

Sherlock had gone quiet in thought as he worked out who the man with the rose really was. John explained to Jenny who they really were, apologised, and they all returned to the hotel, she went back to work and John, Sherlock, and Hamish went to their room.

Near the evening Sherlock stood up and went over to John, who was reading on the bed, he took John's hand and said "I have an idea." He said.

"What is it?" John asked, sitting up more.

"I'm going to go and hang around by this rose-man's house, either he, or the criminal will be there and will see me, perhaps see me as the next target. We just… need to get their attention." Sherlock said.

"How do you know it isn't the rose-man who is the criminal?" John queried.

"He displayed too much compassion, too much love in the act of returning there and laying out a rose. The person who did this has no feelings." Sherlock said quickly.

"Sherlock, I think I should be the one who goes…" John suggested.

"No. All his other victims have ben tall, we can't risk wasting time, John." Sherlock said.

John sighed "Will you take my gun at least?" he asked.

"No need, you'll be there, watching from afar." Sherlock smiled.

"What about Hamish?" John queried.

"He could… stay with Jenny? She's trustworthy, we've spent the afternoon with her so we know her and I am an excellent judge of character thanks to my deductive abilities." Sherlock said.

"Fine, I'll ask her." John sighed.

Sherlock went to the house Jenny had told them about, John was stood behind a tree with his gun in his pocket, watching. Sherlock leant against the house's fence for a while.

Just before Sherlock was about to give up the curtains moved, he then started to show off a bit, trying to catch the person's attention. He walked around with a bit of a wiggle in his hips, took his coat off to reveal his shape and hoping to try to spark an interest.

The door opened and a man, about the age of the rose-man, came out. He looked very similar to the rose-man, his brother, younger. He must be about twenty-five. He had ginger hair, bright eyes that seemed to take everything in, but a look that Sherlock didn't like in his eyes.

"Alright there, mate?" the man asked.

"Fine, thank you. But… I'm a bit lost, I've been looking for signal on my phone." Sherlock said.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"Michael." Sherlock lied.

"Nice to meet you, Michael, I'm Nathan. I can take you to a bar, maybe we could have a drink?" the man suggested.

Sherlock decided to push a little bit "I really should find a way home."

"How about a drink and then I can drive you home." The man said.

Sherlock and Michael walked up the road and for about ten minutes and arrived at a lifeless bar. Sherlock could feel John a few steps behind them, could hear his light footsteps. The man gave Sherlock a drink that he pretended to take a sip from. They didn't converse about anything important, just random stuff.

And true to his word, Nathan drove Sherlock to the hotel. John ran to the hotel and found Sherlock with Hamish in their room, quite alright.

"What the hell was that about?" John asked.

"He wants to see me tomorrow! This is what he does, leads people on, then he takes them to that house and kills them." Sherlock smiled.

"Why are you so happy?" John asked.

"It's going well, why wouldn't I be excited?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

John sighed "Right, well, I'll be waiting in a room in that house if he does do that. Will it be tomorrow, or a few more days?" he asked.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to push him into thinking I'm 'ready'. John, you look confused." Sherlock said.

"Overall, I am."

"Sit down, love." Sherlock gestured to the seat beside him. Once John sat, Sherlock began "Right, if my deductions and suspicions are correct this man led these people on, waited till they were ready to have sexual intercourse, did that with them, after that the person would be in a post-coital state and not in the fittest mind state to be able to stop a man of decent strength, and then killed them, then he redressed them, cleaned them up. I don't know why, I think he's a psychopath, so there may not need to be a reason, it might just be what he likes. So, I'm going to try and get him to think I want to have sex with him, then he will take me to that house to do what he does, and we can stop him. Tomorrow morning I'll set up cameras in the bedroom of that house. Not to worry, John, it'll be completely safe!" Sherlock smiled.

John rubbed his eyes "But… what about Jenny's deceased boyfriend? He wasn't gay, was he?" John frowned.

"He was indeed, I spoke to Jenny on my way in and asked her if she thought he was, and with a bit of persuasion she admitted that there was something a bit off when they had sexual intercourse, and he looked at men far more than women. He wasn't open about his sexuality, but I think at least two of the others were." Sherlock explained.

"Oh, right." John sighed "Well, we better get some rest for tomorrow then. Come on, Hay, bath." John said.

"I don't want to." Hamish pouted.

"Young man, we lay in a field today, you are having a bath." John said more firmly.

"Papa?" Hamish tried.

"No, Hamish, bath." Sherlock said.

Hamish grumbled and trudged into the bathroom.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you! One use of bad language in here.**

Hamish sat on his hotel bed, quite worried about his parents.

"Hamish, are you okay?" Sherlock asked, sitting beside his son.

"Will you get hurt?" Hamish asked, looking up at Sherlock.

"I could. But your dad and I will do our best to ensure that that won't happen. He won't do anything to me, I'll stop him before he can do anything to me that he did to his other victims." Sherlock said and put an arm around Hamish comfortingly.

"He won't… rape you?" Hamish asked.

"No. What is going to happen is I'm going to go in that room with him and just before he tries it on like that John will come out and we'll apprehend him." Sherlock explained.

Hamish relaxed and said "How do you think he kills them?"

"I'm not sure. But whatever he uses will be on his person, maybe in his pocket, and we'll get it." Sherlock said.

"And I just have to… stay with Jenny?" Hamish asked.

"Yes. Don't worry, we'll be back soon." Sherlock said.

Half an hour later John was in position, in the room next to the normal victim's room in that empty house. The cameras had been set up and he could hear everything due to thin walls.

Hamish was in the hotel room with Jenny, who was trying to distract him by bringing the game of scrabble.

Sherlock was walking to the house, led by Nathan.

They went in, Nathan was quite calm and content.

All Sherlock had done was been really forward and the man had got excited and now they were here.

"This place is empty, nobody will disturb us." Nathan said.

Sherlock faked a smile as he was led by the hand upstairs and to the bedroom. Sherlock wanted to let go of Nathan's hand. It wasn't John's. John's hand was warm and gentle, but firm and reassuring; it fit perfectly into Sherlock's. And the only people other than John that he let hold his hand was Hamish. Hamish's was small and when he held onto Sherlock's he held tightly and Sherlock felt the responsibility of being this child's father and he liked that.

"God, you're sexy." Nathan said and pulled him onto the bed. Nathan straddled Sherlock and buried his face in the genius' neck, licking and biting and making Sherlock feel sick.

John could hear movement in the room; once he heard the bed creak he burst into the room. Nathan sat up on Sherlock with wide-eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?" Nathan demanded.

"He's my husband." Sherlock said proudly.

"You set me up!" Nathan screeched and in moments his hands were around Sherlock's neck, squeezing "Who are you? The police?" he demanded.

Sherlock couldn't breathe, but John quickly kicked Nathan to the floor and pointed a gun at him.

"Don't move." John threatened.

Hamish looked over to the table where a tired Jenny had fallen asleep.

He kept thinking up different scenarios his parents could be in, and every one of them ended up in his parents dead or dying. He couldn't sit here!

He opened and shut the door quietly, then set off at a run. He knew where that house was, and he was going to save his parents.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

Nathan stayed still, on the floor, Sherlock also remained still, and John just stared at the man, his gun steady. Suddenly footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Sherlock perked up and said "Hay."

Before they could do anything Hamish opened the door and took in the scene in front of himself. They were fine, the villain was on the floor, he relaxed in relief.

"Hamish, get out now." John said sternly.

"But dad!" Hamish protested.

Nathan started laughing then "Ohh, you got yourselves a little baby, how adorable!" he said with a manic grin.

"I'm not a baby." Hamish scowled.

"Oh, sorry." The man said sarcastically.

"Hamish, leave now." Sherlock said.

"No, no, I think he should stay!" Nathan laughed and got up off the ground.

John cocked his gun "Don't you take one more step near him." he threatened.

But it was all wrong. Nathan was closest to Hamish; he had fallen by the door. John was on the other side of Nathan and Sherlock was between, on the bed. Sherlock sat up slowly, carefully.

"Oh, but you won't shoot. You're probably a good shot, you're hand isn't shaking. But I'm too close to Hamish, you'd never risk his life." Nathan stepped back and towards Hamish.

"Hamish, go!" John shouted.

Hamish was just about to run when Nathan, incredibly quickly, grabbed onto Hamish's arm, pulled, and soon he had Hamish against his chest, he was holding Hamish's head so that the boy's face was buried in his chest. He also had a firm arm on Hamish's back.

Hamish tried to struggle out of the grip that looked like a hug, but he couldn't, the man was strong. Hamish whimpered.

"Dad…" Hamish whispered.

"It's alright." John said gently, but he didn't know what to do.

"Papa…" Hamish breathed.

"Hamish." Sherlock stated.

"Aww, how cute a name. You alright, Hamish?" Nathan ruffled Hamish's hair roughly.

Hamish remained quiet and John and Sherlock saw Nathan pulling out a syringe, the poison.

Sherlock stood up slowly, analysing his options.

"Your parents are scared, Hamish. What will I do? I don't have to poison you like the rest. I invented this poison, you know. It causes an imbalance of chemicals, drastically so, and the victim dies. Untraceable. But I could make it nicer for you; maybe snap that little neck of yours. You know, Hamish, I can imagine now, in my head, you as a little baby. Such a floppy neck babies have. I can imagine your daddies making sure to support your little neck, their little baby. You see, you're young, how old are you, nine, maybe ten. You'll be easy to break. Aww, your parents look scared, do you want to say anything to them?" he asked, he was gently stroking Hamish's neck.

Tears sprung to Hamish's eyes and he said "I don't want to die." He sniffed.

John fought to keep his own tears from falling, his heart was beating so fast.

"Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top." Nathan started to sing softly, swaying gently.

Sherlock and John shared a look.

"When the wind blows, the cradle will rock." He got the needle ready in his hand.

"When the bough breaks, the baby will fall." He smirked at Sherlock and John.

"And down will come baby, cradle and-"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

"And down will come baby, cradle and-"

Sherlock rushed forward, faster that he thought he could, grabbed the needle, chucked it across the room and gripped Nathan's hands in his own. The man had a locked grip on Hamish, but Sherlock knew he had to disable his hands so he couldn't break his son's neck.

Nathan smirked and started squeezing Hamish against him; Sherlock kept his eyes locked with the man's and tried to pull his grip back.

Hamish whimpered at the pressure against his back and head, but he felt a tiny bit of relief with his papa's familiar presence behind him.

There was suddenly a thunderous noise, short and sharp. A gunshot.

Suddenly Nathan's grip on Hamish released and he fell to the floor gripping his knee and gasping for breath. John crouched on the floor just beside Sherlock and Hamish. As Sherlock had distracted Nathan, he had moved silently forward, crouched so he could see everything, and shot so there was no chance of Hamish getting hurt, but definite chance of Nathan getting hurt.

"You Bastard!" Nathan screeched as John stood up.

Sherlock turned Hamish around and held him securely against him. Hamish gripped back, so relieved to be in his papa's arms and out of that psycho's death-grip. Sherlock rubbed his back soothingly and kissed Hamish's temple.

"You were going to kill my son. An eleven year old boy. I am not the bastard in this situation. Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you right now. I'm a doctor, I know where to shoot you so you will have a painful and drawn-out death." John seethed, crouching down by the man again.

The man glared at the army doctor but remained silent.

"I won't. Because I want you to go to prison. But I think we need one more…"John pressed his gun to the man's other knee and pulled the trigger "That's better!" John smiled.

Nathan had blood around his legs and was whimpering and gasping.

John got his phone out and rang the police, telling them of the situation. What they had done was in self-defence. And once that was done he turned to his family and sagged in relief.

"Come here, sweetheart." John said gently.

Hamish pulled his face out of Sherlock's chest and turned to face his dad.

"Dad." Hamish walked over to John with open arms and once he was in John's arms he relaxed further and gripped on tightly.

Suddenly a hand encircled around John's ankle and his foot was yanked, hard. He yelled and fell straight to the floor, Hamish falling on top of him. Nathan, in the family moment, had reached and grabbed the syringe. He threw his upper half toward the father and son, syringe in hand and went right for the smaller one's neck, John's tight fist locked around Nathan's wrist and he growled. Sherlock grabbed Nathan's legs and dragged the man away from his family, John let his wrist go. Nathan screamed in pain, his knees being yanked.

Hamish lay there, still. He had his head on John's chest and stared at Nathan. John put a careful hand over Hamish's eyes, blocking Nathan from his view, he didn't want Hamish seeing any more of the man, with his bloody knees and screeches as Sherlock held onto his ankles… it wasn't a pretty sight.

After two minutes cars and sirens came into earshot, John was sat against the end of the bed, Hamish in his lap, the boy was silent, just leaning against John and gripping onto him. John comfortingly rubbed his back rhythmically. Sherlock had kicked Nathan four times in the face after the man had attempted another escape. But his body had finally given up and his legs were a mess.

Police ran in, along with two paramedics. The police handcuffed the criminal, giving their arrest lines while the paramedics wrapped up the weeping man's knees. One paramedic remained and looked after Nathan, a police officer helped him get him onto a stretcher and carry him downstairs. Sherlock wiped his bloody hands on the bedding and sat beside John. He carefully watched Hamish's face. He looked so… out of it. He just stared at his dad's shirt while twiddling a button on it between his fingers. Sherlock looked worriedly at John, biting his lip.

"I know." John mouthed.

Sherlock tucked a piece of hair behind Hamish's ear and stroked his cheek, Hamish gave a tiny smile, but his eyes remained distant.

The other paramedic approached the three.

"All alright here?" she asked quietly, crouching beside John's other side.

"Yes. He's a bit shaken up." John said quietly "No blows to the head, no physical harm apart from possible light bruises on his back from that… disgusting man squeezing him. But I think he's a bit shocked. I'm a doctor." John added.

The paramedic got a blanket and lay it over Hamish gently.

"Hamish, darling, can you walk?" Sherlock asked clearly, but not too loudly.

Hamish looked at Sherlock, the first eye movement he'd made since he'd been sat in John's lap. But he didn't say anything.

Sherlock got up, bent down, and picked Hamish up and out of John's arms. He had his arms under his shoulders and knees and carried him past the officers and out of the house with John following closely behind.

"Take us to our hotel, please." John said to an officer.

"Of course." The officer gestured to a car and they all got in, Hamish, Sherlock and John in the back.

They were in the hotel, walking down their corridor when Hamish finally started reacting on the outside. Tears started running and he sniffled and soon he was sobbing in Sherlock's arms, burying his face in his papa's neck, breathing shakily.

"I didn't want to die…" Hamish cried.

John got them in their room quickly and shut the door, Sherlock lay Hamish on their bed and they sat on either side of him. John gently lifted Hamish's head onto his lap and ran his fingers through his hair.

"That would mean you two would not have me… and be sad and lonely…" Hamish cried.

Sherlock and John's eyes met suddenly. Of course, the eleven year old had been afraid of dying, but he'd also been afraid for his parents too.

"Oh, my darling, darling son." John said and pulled Hamish into a hug. Sherlock joined in and the three were wrapped up in an emotional cuddle.

"We love you so much, Hamish." Sherlock said firmly.

"I'm sorry for ruining everything… I'm sorry for-"John cut him off.

"Don't say sorry. I think you've learnt your lesson." He said.

Hamish laughed through his tears.

"That's better, a bit of a smile. That's what we like to see." John wiped the tears away.

"Can we go home tomorrow?" Hamish asked.

"Yes. They can email us the paperwork." John said.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Hamish asked.

"Sure, if you need that." John nodded.

Hamish nodded, sniffed and sat up slowly.

"Can I have a bath and we burn my clothes that he touched?" he asked.

John and Sherlock chuckled "Yes, Hay." Sherlock nodded and ruffled Hamish's hair gently.

Half an hour later Hamish was tucked up in his pyjamas, lying in the middle of Sherlock and John's bed, reading quite contently.

"He's recovering quickly. I thought it was going to be really bad considering what he was like five minutes after it was all over." John whispered to Sherlock in the bathroom.

"He's strong and brave. But he hasn't experienced anything close to what Moriarty did in a few years, he's doing well." Sherlock commented.

"I was so… terrified." John leant against the sink.

Sherlock gently rubbed his back "He's okay. We saved him." He said.

"Yeah. I don't know what I'd do without him. I couldn't… I couldn't live without him." John confessed.

"Neither could I." Sherlock confirmed.

They looked at each other for a few moments before John pulled Sherlock in for a gentle kiss then leant his forehead against the paler man's intimately.

"Come on then, bed time." Sherlock said, gave John one more kiss, and they returned to the main room.

Hamish smiled at them "My book is getting really good." He said.

"Is it? That's good!" John said and settled in on his side while Sherlock settled on the other side.

"Do you think Gladstone is okay? And Gran?" Hamish asked.

"I think they're just fine." Sherlock reassured him.

Hamish nodded and carried on reading.

After his third yawn John plucked the book out of his son's hands and popped the bookmark in "Sleep time now."

Hamish sighed but rolled onto his side and shut his eyes.

"Night dad, papa, love you." He mumbled.

"Goodnight, Hamish, I love you too." Sherlock said.

"Night, Hay. Love you." John said, flicking the light off.

"Goodnight, John. I love you." Sherlock said.

"Night, Sherlock. Love you." John smiled, leaned over Hamish quickly to plant a kiss on his husband's lips and take his hand in his. Then he pulled away, keeping his hand entwined with Sherlock's and lay back on his side, they rested their hands on Hamish's side and the three stared into the dark room and with the presence and security of each other, they fell asleep.

**Author's note: I hope you enjoyed that! Again, please review! **

**BIG ANNOUNCEMENT!**

**I HAVE FOUND A HAMISH LOOK-A-LIKE!**

**He's not an 11 year old, but I guess at least most of you have read this from Hamish Watson-Holmes, so this is little Hamish.**

**It's on my blog, here's the link – remove brackets and spaces please:**

**aroundthesunlikeateddybear**

**.**

**tumblr**

** .com (/) tagged/my%20fanfiction%20stuff**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

When they arrived back home the following day Hamish went up to his room and saw his school uniform hung up on the wardrobe and his heart sank. He had quite enjoyed not having the stress of that stupid school on his back for a little while at least, but he'd have to go back tomorrow. He'd have to go to that place where nobody liked him and he couldn't make any friends.

"Hamish! You've got a letter!" John shouted up.

Hamish smiled and went downstairs, taking the letter and ripping it open. He recognised the handwriting immediately, it was Gavin. A smile spread across Hamish's features and he read quickly over the letter in excitement. It was short, just saying that Gavin had settled in well, made some friends, was liking the school, but missed Hamish terribly and couldn't wait to see him again.

"Letter from Gavin?" John asked, wrapping an arm around Hamish's shoulders.

Hamish nodded with a smile "He likes it there, but he can't wait to see me again. I'm going to go and write back now." Hamish smiled up at his dad then ran off.

John smiled to himself, happy that Hamish was happy and he went into his and Sherlock's bedroom and found his husband unpacking.

"Ohh, are you alright?" John put his hand to Sherlock's forehead.

"I'm quite fine, what makes you think otherwise?" Sherlock asked.

"It's just… you're unpacking!" John said with wide eyes.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." Sherlock grumbled.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock with a smile "I'm only kidding. Thank you." John kissed his husband's cheek and went to making his family some lunch.

That evening John and Sherlock were cuddled up on the sofa when Hamish came in and flicked on the telly.

"Hamish, you know you have school tomorrow." John said.

"I know." Hamish nodded.

"Are you feeling alright about it?" Sherlock asked.

"No. But there is nothing I can do about it but go in there and… try." Hamish sighed "I don't want to, but I… I need to. I can even take a book to read. If I don't make any friends I can always read. I'm going to… be brave." Hamish said firmly.

"You're very brave, the bravest boy I know." John said with a proud smile.

"How am I brave?" Hamish asked, looking down to the ground.

"You've been through a lot, but you don't give up. You've been in the hands of a serial murderer and you remained still, most people would have panicked." John explained "I have many more examples, do I need to go on?"

Hamish blushed "No, it's… I get it now. Thanks, dad." Hamish smiled.

John smiled in return and Sherlock said "Best you go to bed. We don't want you being tired. You can read in bed if you want though."

"Okay. Night night." Hamish trudged over to them and gave them both hugs and got kisses on his cheek from them.

"We'll tuck you in later! You can read until then!" John called after him.

About twenty minutes later they heard "Dad! Daaad!"

John got up and stretched, then made his way to his son's room and found the boy had put his book down and looked ready to fall asleep.

John sat on the side of the eleven year old's bed and ran his fingers through Hamish's soft hair "We'll wake you up in the morning. And if you have any nightmares or can't sleep, just come downstairs, okay?" John asked.

Hamish nodded "Can you send papa up next?" he asked.

"Of course." John smiled and nodded, then leant down, pressed a kiss to Hamish's temple, bid him goodnight and added "I love you." And went down to get Sherlock.

Sherlock was next up, he checked the inside of the wardrobe and then shut it. Hamish had the common but irrational fear of something lurking in the wardrobe.

"Okay?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish nodded, albeit hesitantly.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock sat where John had been only a minute ago.

"What if nobody ever likes me?" Hamish asked quietly.

"Hay, someone at that school will like you. You do have a unique personality to most, and though you may not meld well with everyone, some will like you." Sherlock said.

"But… not many people like you. Hardly any do, papa! People say I'm like you! What if I'll just have to wait for a person like dad to come along… that might take years!" Hamish looked rather distressed.

"Hamish, listen carefully. Yes, you are like me. But who else do people say you are like?" Sherlock asked.

"Dad." Hamish said.

"That's right. You're like your dad as well. And you're also your own person. When I was in Primary school I never had any friends, but you had Gavin! You've got some good social skills and you aren't me. You'll be fine, I don't often have anything like 'faith', but I do have a strong belief that you, my boy, will make friends." Sherlock said.

"You're sure?" Hamish asked.

"I can't predict the future, but I think so." Sherlock said and ruffled Hamish's hair gently.

"Okay." Hamish snuggled in deeper into his covers.

"Goodnight, Hamish. Sleep well." Sherlock kissed the side of his head and left, turning the lamp off as he walked "Love you." He said and went downstairs.

"You were up there for a while." John commented "Is he okay?"

"Just a bit nervous." Sherlock said.

"That's understandable." John nodded "I really hope he's okay. I couldn't bare the thought of him being lonely."

"Me neither. But I'm sure he'll be fine." Sherlock said "John, can we go to St Bart's tomorrow, I want to see if I can get a hand to do some experiments on."

"You can go, I'm working. But maybe I can get off early." John said.

"I hope you can." Sherlock admitted.

"Me too." John smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

"Hamish, wake up, it's time to get ready for school." Hamish heard his papa's voice and felt someone shaking him by the shoulder gently.

"Don' wanna go." Hamish grumbled.

"Come on. Up." Sherlock said.

Hamish groaned but got up and went downstairs for some breakfast. His dad was up, laying the table for breakfast.

"Morning!" John smiled.

Hamish sighed and sat down grumpily.

"Someone not in a good mood this morning?" John asked.

"I don't want to go." Hamish admitted.

"I know. But remember, we'll be right here at home at the end of the day." John smiled.

Hamish ate his breakfast and got ready for school.

He stood in the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. As he had grown his features had become clear who they had been inherited from.

His eyes were just like John's in shape and colour.

His hair was as thick and curly as Sherlock's, but it was blonde, the same colour as what John's used to be when he was younger.

His face shape was very similar to John's, but it was slightly thinner and a little sharper, his cheekbones were more prominent for a start.

His nose was Sherlock's, as were his ears. But his mouth was more John's.

He was still smaller than most, so he was probably going to be John's height when he reached his limit.

He was often told he was handsome, though he could obviously see his faults where others didn't. But that was what everyone did.

But he was okay with his looks, none of his features were too big, they were all proportionate, his hair was sometimes difficult to tame, but he didn't bother too much with that.

After he packed his bag a cab was outside waiting for them. Sherlock and John wanted to take him on his second day. Hamish sat between them in the back of the taxi.

"It'll be fine." John said with an arm around his son.

"Maybe." Hamish said.

The taxi pulled up outside the school.

"See you later." Sherlock gave Hamish a hug and a kiss on the temple and John did the same.

"Bye, love you." Hamish said.

"Love you too." They returned "Have a nice day!" John added.

Hamish gave a small brave smile and got out of the cab and went into school.

Hamish's day started off badly. His tutor called him up to the front of the silent classroom (it was the beginning of this new school, so the children were pretty obedient).

"Hamish Watson-Holmes, where have you been these past few days?" she asked.

"I was in Scotland with my parents, they had a case." Hamish said nervously "They rang the school and informed them." He added.

"I know. But we also expect an extra letter when you return." She admonished.

"We didn't know." Hamish said.

"Okay. Well bring one in tomorrow." She said sternly.

Hamish nodded and went back to his seat while a few people sniggered at him getting berated in front of everyone.

In his first class, Science, well, that went a bit better.

"Hamish!" the teacher called upon him about half way through.

"Yes?" Hamish asked.

"You haven't been here for a few days, you've missed the beginning of this course." The teacher said.

"That's okay, sir. I can see you're half way through teaching it, but I've already learnt this." Hamish said.

"You've… already what?" the man frowned.

"I already know all about this topic." Hamish said.

"Oh… you're the clever boy?" the man asked.

Hamish stayed quiet.

"Well, if you every have anything to contribute, don't hesitate. And if you need any harder work, please do ask." The man smiled encouragingly.

"Thank you." Hamish nodded.

At break he still hadn't befriended anyone, but he found a nice spot in the library and read his book, which he enjoyed.

In the lesson between break and lunch he had Maths. He was sat next to a boy with brown short hair, reading glasses, soft brown eyes, and a kind smile.

"Hamish?" the boy asked.

"Yes?" Hamish asked, looking over to the boy next to him.

"I saw your name on your book. I'm George." The boy smiled.

"Hi." Hamish smiled hesitantly.

"Do you get this Math work? I hate Maths." The boy moaned.

"It's easy." Hamish said and leant over, he explained it and George grinned "I get it!"

"See, not that hard. Some teachers just overcomplicate things." Hamish said.

"Indeed they do." George agreed "So, who do you hang around with at lunch?" he asked.

"Nobody, I was only here for the first day, and then my parents and I went to Scotland for a case, so I haven't really made friends with anyone." Hamish explained, he felt comfortable in George's presence.

"Right. Well, you can hang around with me, if you want to. I have a friend called Max. But he is kind of joining a really popular group and keeps leaving me or I just tag along and feel unwanted. So I guess we're both a bit lonely." George said.

"Well, not with each other we won't be." Hamish smiled.

"Cool! So, do you have a packed lunch, or do you buy food from the canteen?" George asked.

"It depends whether my parents have time to make me lunch. Today it's packed lunch." Hamish said.

"Me too. But I always have packed lunch. My mum doesn't like me eating school food, it apparently doesn't taste very nice and I'm lactose intolerant and she just… is a bit of a worry-guts." George smiled in a cross between awkwardness and fondness.

"I'm allergic to peanuts!" Hamish said.

"We have a lot in common! Allergies and everything!" George laughed with Hamish.

"Boys, quieten down." The teacher called over to them.

They looked down at their work but were soon whispering to each other. Hamish really liked George, the boy was kind and funny and they were fast friends.

They sat and ate lunch together and went through their time tables together. It turned out they had every class together! They'd just not been sat close enough to connect before this Maths lesson. As they were in the younger years the classes were always similar with people as the school tried to familiarise you and settle you in.

When it was time to go home they promised to meet each other by the school gates the next morning.

Hamish spotted an awaiting cab and jogged over to it with a smile on his face and hopped in. As it drove off and Hamish plugged his seatbelt in he turned to his dads.

"Good day, we gather?" John asked with an excited smile.

"You made a friend, Hamish?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes! His name is George and he's really nice and funny and we have every class together! We ate lunch together!" Hamish smiled.

"We're so glad." John said and pulled Hamish into his side for a hug.

"Me too." Hamish agreed as Sherlock ruffled his hair.

**Author's note: For facials of Hamish, see this post (please remove spaces and you know what to do):**

**aroundthesunlikeateddybear**

**.**

**tumblr**

**.**

**com**

**/post/43611803355/dapperpuppet-benedict-cumberbatch-and-martin**

**And also, please, please tell me what you think of the description of Hamish!**

**Do you think that he'd look handsome or that those features wouldn't quite go? The visuals might help **** Thanks again!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

Hamish enjoyed school far more after he made friends with George. After about a month of knowing him Hamish bounded up to his friend with a grin "My parents said you could come over for a sleepover this weekend, if you want!" he smiled.

"Yes!" George grinned.

So, that weekend it was sleepover time. Hamish had got a new movie, a few packets of sweets, and the house had been moderately cleaned.

It was mid-afternoon on Saturday that George was due to arrive. Sherlock was sat in the kitchen experimenting while John was sat watching some crap telly with Hamish while they waited.

"Excited, Hay?" John asked with an arm around Hamish's shoulders.

Hamish looked up and nodded.

There was a knock at the door and Hamish was up and running down the stairs 2 at a time. John switched the telly off and went downstairs to greet the boy too.

Hamish pulled the door open and found George and his mum at the doorstep.

"Come in!" Hamish grinned.

The two entered "Hello, I'm John, Hamish's dad." John shook George's mum's hand and she said "I'm Rosie, George's mum." She smiled.

"Nice to meet you." John smiled and the four went upstairs.

"Sherlock! Seriously, get your head out of that microscope and say hello!" John called into the kitchen.

Sherlock could be heard sighing and then went to join the group.

George's eyes widened slightly.

"This is my papa." Hamish gestured.

"You have two dads? You never said." George said.

"Oh. I didn't think it was important." Hamish said shyly.

George looked at Hamish for a few moments "Oh, mate, mate, don't get me wrong!" he put a hand on Hamish's shoulder supportively "I'm not some idiot homophobe. I was just a bit shocked because you never said you had two dads. I think it's fine." George smiled.

"Good." Hamish relaxed and smiled.

"So anyway, what time do you want me to pick Georgie up tomorrow?" Rosie asked.

"Half eleven, please, we're going out at twelve." Sherlock answered.

"Of course. And if George is any trouble, please call me. Here's my number." She handed a card to John.

"Right." The adults continued to talk for a few more minutes before Rosie left and George and Hamish went straight to watching the film with popcorn between them.

In the evening John cooked some lasagne and set the table.

"Boys! Dinner!" he called through to the eleven year olds who were sat in the living room playing on the laptop.

They came through and George said "This smells so good."

"Thank you. Don't worry, Hamish has told us about your allergies so you can just eat this straight away." John smiled.

The four sat down and ate.

"Hamish just told me you solve crimes!" George commented.

"Yes. I have a blog about it." John replied.

"Cool! Hamish, you have to show me this blog!" George tugged at his friend's elbow.

"I will, alright." Hamish smiled.

"Do you get mentioned in them?" George queried to Hamish.

"Not much, we like to keep him out of the spot light. Not all those who read the blog have the best intentions." John explained.

"Oh, right. So is it dangerous, the crime solving?" George asked.

"Yes." Sherlock said "But now we have Hamish we try to take precautions."

"Can I ask you… Hamish, are you one of those kids that come from both dads?" George asked slightly cautiously.

"Yep. I was the first ever, actually. I was on the news." Hamish said.

"Really?" George asked with wide eyes.

Hamish nodded.

"Do the teachers know and all that?" George asked.

"Well, they have everything about everyone on files, but I doubt they looked into it properly." Sherlock said.

"This is so cool! Because I can really see your dads in you, your mannerisms, the way you look too!" George said excitedly to Hamish.

"Yeah, my gran says that all the time." Hamish smiled sheepishly.

"So, are you two staying up all night or are you going to sleep at all?" John asked with a slight smile.

"We're staying up all night!" Hamish said.

"Of course." John nodded, though he had a knowing smile on his face.

As the evening drew on the boys got in their pyjamas, watched television till half past ten downstairs, then went upstairs to Hamish's bedroom to chat and play and such.

John and Sherlock went to bed at about twelve, it was quite quiet upstairs so they knew the boys were either sleeping or settled.

At about two o'clock John woke up to a thump from upstairs. He rubbed his eyes, untangled himself from Sherlock's arms, and made his way upstairs in his nice warm pyjamas. He found the door ajar and poked his head in. George was blearily looking around. They had set up a mattress for him at the bottom of Hamish's bed and it seemed he had been awoken by the thump too. Hamish lay on the floor, fast asleep.

"Oh, he's fallen out of bed again." John said quietly.

"That's quite a high bed. Is he alright?" George whispered.

"Oh, he's fine. He wakes up if he falls awkwardly normally." John explains.

Hamish's bed was a normal bed but it was quite high off the ground.

John crouched down and picked Hamish up gently.

"Da…" Hamish mumbled and curled into John's warm chest.

"Yes, Hay. Go to sleep now, sweetheart." John said gently and he lay Hamish on the bed and put his covers on him. He bent down, pressed a kiss to Hamish's forehead, stroked his hair gently and stood up properly and turned to George.

"Are you alright? Do you need some water, the loo?" John queried.

"Erm… both, please." George stood.

"I'll get you some water." John said and the two went downstairs and George went to the loo while John poured some water into a glass. George soon came out "Here you go." John passed him the glass.

"Thank you." George gave a small smile and returned upstairs with his glass.

John went to bed and cuddled up to Sherlock.

"Alright?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah. Hamish fell out the bed and George needed a drink and the loo. But all's settled now." John said.

Sherlock smiled and gave John's side a rub and they fell asleep.

The next morning two very tired eleven year olds came downstairs for breakfast.

"Good morning, boys!" John smiled and laid toast in front of them.

"Mornin'." George said and yawned.

"Morning." Hamish said and stretched.

"You two are perky today." John commented sarcastically as he took a sip from his tea and sat beside Hamish.

Sherlock came in and walked straight through.

"Not hungry, Sherlock?" John called into the living room.

He got a grumble of negative in reply and left it at that with a sigh.

"You slept in a little; your mum will be here in about an hour, George." John said and started running his fingers through Hamish's blonde curly hair repetitively.

"Alright. I'll get my stuff together then we can relax." George said and yawned again.

The two ended up watching some telly and Rosie arrived just as the credits rolled.

"Mum!" George smiled.

"Hi, Georgie! Did you have a nice time?" she asked as he hugged her.

"Yep! We watched the best film ever and we ate loads of sweets and we stayed awake until one o'clock! It was so much fun!" George grinned.

"We're glad you enjoyed yourself." John smiled "You'll have to excuse my husband; he can sometimes be very unsociable."

"Oh, don't worry about it." Rosie said.

All the while Sherlock lay on the sofa, facing the back of it, curled up.

"Well, it was nice having you. They get along really well." John mad the last comment to Rosie.

"Thank you for having me!" George said with a grin.

"No problem! I'm sure you two have more sleepovers to come." John said.

"Really, dad?" Hamish asked.

John nodded.

"Maybe even next time you could come over to ours?" Rosie suggested with a smile.

"Cool!" George and Hamish shouted in unison, making John and Rosie smile fondly.

"Well, we best be off." Rosie gave them a little wave.

"See you at school, George!" Hamish said after his friend.

"See you!" George shouted back with a wave and they left.

"That was so much fun!" Hamish grinned.

"I'm glad." John pulled Hamish in for a short hug then went over to his husband.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Thinking." Sherlock said.

"About?" John asked, settling a hand on the genius' side.

"I need a case." Sherlock said.

"Give Greg a text." John said.

"Can you pass me my phone?" Sherlock asked.

"Where is it?" John asked.

"My bed side table." Sherlock said.

"No, you can get it yourself!" John protested.

"John." Sherlock said in one of his sharp tones, hinting obviously at his mood.

"Alright, I'll get it for you." John said but before he went to their room he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's temple.

When he walked through to their room he passed Hamish and said to his son "Papa needs some entertaining."

Hamish nodded in understanding and went over to Sherlock and climbed over him and sat down on the side of his bent legs.

"Papa!" Hamish said.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Can we play chess?" Hamish asked.

"Predictable. I hate that game." Sherlock spat.

"You hate it with everyone else! But I can outwit you, I promise! I'll beat you, like that time when we were in France on holiday!" Hamish said.

Sherlock spent a moment to think about it.

"Fine. But give me your best game." Sherlock instructed sternly.

"Promise." Hamish smiled at him and they got up and went to the armchairs, put the coffee table between them, set up the board, and began.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

Sherlock and John got back from a case and found Mrs Hudson in their living room reading a book quite contently.

"Evening, Mrs Hudson." John said gently.

"Oh, hello, boys!" she smiled "Hamish was good tonight, but he looked a bit peaky and didn't settle very easily."

"Oh, okay then, I'll go up and check on him. Thanks for looking after him." John said as Sherlock flopped down on the sofa.

Mrs Hudson smiled at John then went to talk to Sherlock about the case.

John poked his head around his son's bedroom door and found the boy twisted up in his covers and sweating. John felt his temperature and found that it wasn't too high. If he was bothered by anything or actually was properly ill he'd wake up.

Later that night the house was quiet. Mrs Hudson was asleep in her flat. Sherlock and John were cuddled up together in their bed, fast asleep, but Hamish's eyes opened slowly. He gave a quiet groan and stretched. He sniffed and frowned and as his body left the numb sleep mode he started to feel everything and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He turned on his bedside lamp and looked down. He'd wet the bed.

"Oh no." Hamish whispered.

He hadn't done that in years! He recalled that his dream had been unsettling, probably a nightmare, but not one he could remember. But he was still dreadfully embarrassed by what he'd unconsciously done. His first instinct was to call for one of his parents, but on second thoughts he decided he didn't want to. He was a big boy, eleven years old, this shouldn't have happened.

Hamish really quietly went downstairs, his face contorted in disgust at the feel of his warmish-wet pyjama trousers. He went to the bathroom and found in the cupboards some wet-wipes then returned upstairs and put them on the side to be used later. He stripped his bed, which was a struggle as he was so small and the covers were so big. Then he went to the airing cupboard and found a new set of sheets, he was incredibly careful in trying not to wake anyone. He managed to change the sheets in ten minutes.

Sherlock jerked awake, his eyes sharp and his ears perked. He could hear quiet footsteps upstairs, obviously Hamish's, but why was the boy up so late?

Sherlock got up, slipped into John's dressing gown and made his way upstairs, his feet padding quietly on the carpet. He opened the door of Hamish's room slowly and on the other side he found many things going on in the room. Firstly, the bed had new covers, secondly, there were a pile of sheets on the floor, thirdly, Hamish stood in the middle looking both upset and embarrassed, fourthly, the room smelled distinctly of urine, and fifthly, there was a wet patch on the front of Hamish's light blue pyjama trousers.

"Oh, Hamish." Sherlock sighed.

"I didn't mean to, papa, I promise! I think I had a nightmare and I woke up and it had just happened! And I tried to change the bed, but I think the mattress is a bit wet. And I brought up some wet wipes, don't worry, I was going to clean myself up." Hamish insisted "I just only wanted to do that after I'd done with all of the sheets and stuff."

"Alright, calm down, I'm not angry." Sherlock put a reassuring hand up.

"But… I wet the bed." Hamish said morosely.

"Yes, I am aware. But when the mind is in distressful dreams you can lose control of certain parts of yourself because the focus goes, or some things are so terrifying that the bladder releases itself. It's fine. I'm just a little upset that you didn't come and get me or dad, we could have helped." Sherlock said.

"Sorry." Hamish mumbled "But, I'm eleven, it's embarrassing."

"I know that. But trust me; I remember that once Mycroft wet the bed when he was thirteen. That's two whole years older than you!" Sherlock said reassuringly.

"Really?" Hamish asked.

"Really. Now, let's sort you out first. You can have a quick shower-"Hamish cut his papa off.

"No! That will wake dad up! I don't want two people fussing over me!" Hamish protested.

"Oh, he'll sleep right through. He's incredibly tired after this case. And though I am happy to comply with your want for just me to help you at the moment, we will be telling dad in the morning." Sherlock said firmly.

"Okay." Hamish nodded.

"Come on then." Sherlock put an arm around his shoulders and steered him downstairs and into the bathroom. Sherlock got the shower to the right temperature and Hamish got in.

"I'll bring you some fresh pyjamas then put the sheets and other clothes in the washing machine." Sherlock explained and left after picking up the clothes on the floor. He went up to Hamish's room and quickly got the sheets then went downstairs and put them in the washing machine and turned it on, on the way past the bathroom he put some fresh pyjamas on the side for Hamish. He went back up and took the new covers off the bed and found that the mattress did indeed have a wet patch. Sherlock went to the kitchen and searched the cupboards for something to clean a mattress with. He found something and used that to clean the bed. He flipped the mattress, put the clean bedding on, opened a window a little bit, sprayed the room with some air freshener from the bathroom and put his hands on his hips. John would be very proud of him; he'd never done so much cleaning in such little time before.

"Papa?" Hamish walked into the room with damp curly hair and new pyjamas on.

"All better?" Sherlock asked with a smile, turning to face Hamish. Hamish nodded and reached his arms out. Sherlock pulled his son into a hug and rubbed his back comfortingly "It's alright. It was just an accident." He reassured him. Hamish nodded into his neck.

"Now, how about we read another chapter of your book together then you can try to get back to sleep, you look a bit too perky to go back to sleep right now." Sherlock said and pulled away.

Hamish nodded with a smile and lay down in bed. Sherlock sat beside Hamish and the blonde rested his head on his papa's stomach as Sherlock read the next chapter of his book to him. Hamish soon felt his eyes drooping and Sherlock came to a stop when he felt Hamish's breathing even and calm.

He tucked Hamish in, put the book on his side table, turned the lamp off, kissed his forehead, then returned back to his own bed.

The next morning John frowned "Why is the washing machine on?"

Hamish blushed and Sherlock took John's hand to get the man's attention "John, Hamish had an accident last night."

"What sort of accident?" John checked.

"He wet the bed. He thinks he may have had a nightmare and that could have been the cause." Sherlock explained "I heard him moving around upstairs and helped him clean the mattress and put the sheets in the washing machine. He had a shower, he's alright, aren't you, Hay?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish nodded "I didn't want a fuss."

"Aww, Hay, you can always come to us with anything. However embarrassing or difficult, we're here." John said and squeezed the boy's shoulder.

Hamish gave a small smile and nodded "I know."

"That must have been why you were unsettled last night. You look fine this morning. You probably had a small bug, which can cause a little fever and urge on a nightmare." John checked Hamish's temperature "Yes, you're fine this morning."

Hamish nodded with a smile and continued to eat his breakfast.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

12 year old Hamish came home one day late into the school year with a letter. He was happy at school. With George and a few other friends he was supported. He had good grades, was the most intelligent person in the year by far. A teacher had called Sherlock and John up and asked if Hamish would like to move up a year, but the family had decided to keep him with his age-group because he was happy and settled, but Hamish did do extra work.

"Dad!" Hamish passed John the letter and said "Parent's evening" as an explanation.

"Ah! Finally! We get to see what you get up to, monkey!" John tapped Hamish fondly on the nose and Sherlock took his head out of his most recent experiment.

"Parent's evening?" he asked.

"Yes. Next Wednesday. It says here that you can choose five teachers you want to talk to and you get ten minutes with each in the main hall and some classrooms where all the teachers are. Hamish, what teachers do you think we should see?" John asked.

Before Hamish could reply Sherlock said loudly "Science!"

"Yes, of course, Sherlock." John nodded and wrote that on the form then looked at their son.

"Erm… well Maths and English are meant to be important. And also… how about PE? Because I want to join some teams but I haven't had a chance to talk to my teacher about that yet. And one more… you can choose that one, dad!" Hamish smiled. John wrote down all the subjects then said "What about music?" John suggested and Hamish nodded.

When the evening arrived Hamish came home from school and said "What time do we have to go, again?" The students were asked to come along too.

"About six." John answered as he began preparing an early dinner.

At quarter to six Sherlock and John had dressed in fresh clothes, Sherlock in one of his dapper suits and John in jeans, a shirt and a jumper. Hamish remained in his uniform and the three hailed a taxi.

When they arrived there were parents and students milling around everywhere. The rush was a little overwhelming until they got to the main hall. In the centre there was a row of chairs, back to back, for people to sit and wait for their appointments on. And covering the rest of the hall were desks with a teacher on one side and three chairs on the other.

"We've got five minutes then we'll see your Maths teacher, Hay." John said and the three sat down. Hamish sat next to his papa while John sat next to Sherlock.

"Oh, Pa? Please don't say anything mean to anyone. I don't want anyone upset." Hamish asked.

"Fine." Sherlock sighed but John could tell he was making his deductions by the way his eyes were sharp and flickering all over people and the little changes in facial expression as he made revelations.

"Our turn!" Hamish said, he'd been watching the Maths teacher intently, waiting to get to it.

The Watson-Holmes' got up and went over to that teacher. Sherlock and Hamish sat down but John shook his hand and introduced himself and Sherlock before sitting on Hamish's other side.

"Well, Hamish is a very intelligent boy. He gets along well with all the work and almost every lesson I have to give him extra." The man said "Which is really good. Now, he will be doing an end of year exam in about a month. This doesn't account for anything on a big scale. But it will let me see how he has gotten along and it determines which set he goes into next year." The man explained.

"Okay, well we'll make sure he does a bit of revision." John nodded.

"How is he socially in your class?" Sherlock asked.

As Sherlock had been intensely bullied in some stages of his school-life he was very determined to ensure his son didn't go through the same thing.

"Fine. He gets along well with a few people. And others don't really bother him and he doesn't bother them. Hamish is polite but vocal. He's good at answering questions." The man smiled "And how do you feel things are going? Any questions?"

"It's fine. And no, no questions." Hamish said with a small smile.

"Good. Well, any questions from either of you?" he looked at Sherlock and John.

"No." Sherlock replied.

"Okay then, well that brings this session to an end early, so I'll go for a water-break, I'm thirsty. It was nice to meet you and talk with you. Hamish is a pleasure to teach." He shook Sherlock and John's hands and the four departed.

Hamish, Sherlock and John sat down in the waiting area. Hamish was sat between his parents this time.

"Hi, Hamish!" three girls came up to him, they weren't his friends, but they were incredibly friendly, giggly and a bit gossipy.

"Hello." Hamish said a bit awkwardly.

"Whose this, Hay?" John asked.

"They're in a few of my classes. Valentine, Dawn and Eve." Hamish said.

"Is this your dad?" Valentine asked.

"That's me." John nodded.

"Aww, you look like him. I look like my mum, a lot." Dawn informed them.

"Where's your mum, Hamish?" Eve asked curiously, looking around.

"I don't have a mum, I hav-"Dawn cut him off.

"Aww, sorry, we didn't know." She said sadly.

"No, no, no, it's not what you think. This is my Papa." Hamish gestured to Sherlock.

"You have two dads?" Valentine asked, looking at the three of them.

"Oh my God, really?" Dawn asked.

"Yes." Hamish said.

"Nobody knew!" Valentine exclaimed.

"Is it their business? I don't know anything about your families." Hamish frowned.

"Yes, but you didn't say…" Dawn said.

"Do I have to announce it? I don't see you announcing you have a mum and dad. What's the difference for me?" Hamish asked.

"Oh. Erm… I think my appointment is next." The girls wondered off, chatting away as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Nobody knows?" John asked.

"Don't worry, dad, it isn't anything to do with shame. I don't care that I have two dads, I am proud of that. But I… I don't think I ever even thought about it. I just never said anything." Hamish said.

"Oh. Well I hope nobody makes a fuss. But you need to tell us if anybody says anything you're not happy about, okay?" John said firmly.

Hamish nodded.

"Ah, it's time for the Science teacher." Sherlock said.

During their talk with the science teacher Hamish noticed a few people staring and talking behind their hands, mostly people he recognised from his year.

"Hamish, are you listening?" his science teacher asked.

"No." Hamish stated.

"Hamish, listen. This is about you." John said.

Hamish sighed but turned his gaze to the teacher and listened.

They went straight from the science teacher to the PE teacher.

"Hello, I'm Mr Davis. Hamish's PE teacher and head of that department. Please, sit." He smiled and shook their hands and they sat.

"Hamish is very good at Sport, and he seems to enjoy it too. He's a good team player." The man smiled.

"Sir, I want to join the Rugby team." Hamish said.

"Really? Well, that's great! We actually recently had two players drop out. It's the younger team for ages thirteen and younger. It's on every Thursday; you're welcome to come tomorrow. Have you played the game before?" He asked.

"Yes, I played in my primary school team." Hamish nodded.

"Great. Just bring your kit and… do you have studded boots?" he asked.

"We can get him some. But let's give it a trial-run. If you like it we can get you some, okay?" John asked and Hamish nodded.

"Trainers should be fine for a bit." Mr Davis nodded.

After an enthusiastic chat with Mr Davis the three left and went to sit on the waiting chairs.

"We have to go to Mrs Brown's classroom to see my English teacher." Hamish said, looking at the sheet of times.

They got up and Hamish led them through the corridors. There was a group of about ten chairs outside the classroom, all but four were filled. Sherlock and John sat beside each other and Hamish sat next to John and looked around. He spotted a few boys sat opposite him who he recognised from a few of his classes but didn't have much to do with.

They were all looking at Hamish and his dads then they turned and whispered to each other. Hamish frowned and sighed, great, he was part of the gossip mill.

John put an arm around him and he leaned into his dad "Alright?" John asked and Hamish nodded.

Sherlock leant over John and said "Hey, your English teacher is pregnant."

"Really?" Hamish asked.

"Yes." And Sherlock explained how he knew.

"How long until the appointment now?" John asked.

"Ten minutes." Hamish said.

"Right, I need the loo." John stood.

"The loos are down this corridor then turn left and first door on the right." Hamish instructed.

"I'll go too. Will you be alright on your own for a few moments?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish nodded and they left.

The three boys stood up and stood in front of Hamish.

Hamish gave them a passing smile and looked down at the sheet in his lap.

"Everyone is talking about it, you know?" one boy asked.

"About what?" Hamish asked without looking up.

"Your dads." One of them said.

"What about them?" Hamish asked.

"That you have two dads." One said.

"Thank you for stating the obvious." Hamish stated.

"We just thought you should know." Two of them left but one of them stayed and said "I hope nobody gives you any trouble." then followed his friends.

John and Sherlock returned and it was soon time to go and speak to the English teacher.

That one went well. Except she did comment that Hamish didn't seem to bother listening or learning things that he didn't find interesting.

They then moved into the music block and to the music classroom where three teachers were based, Mrs Smith was sat waiting for them.

They talked briefly about Hamish's progress in the year but at the end she said "Oh, and Hamish, I hear you play the violin."

"Yes." Hamish nodded.

"To what grade?" she asked.

"I didn't do grades. I just play. Papa here taught me and I compose my own pieces too." Hamish said.

"Can I just ask you to play something for us now?" she asked.

"Okay." Hamish shrugged.

She went over to the instrument store cupboard and brought out a violin and handed it to Hamish. Hamish plucked the strings quietly and listened then did some retuning.

"Would you like to make a request or…?" Hamish asked.

"How about a favourite of yours?" she suggested.

"Viva La Vida by Cold Play." He said.

Hamish stood and put the violin under his chin and put the bow against it. Then he started playing. The room went quiet and everyone turned to watch. Hamish was incredibly good! Sherlock and John felt very proud of Hamish. They watched as their son immersed himself in the music, his eyes shut and he looked so relaxed as he played the instrument. The bow ran along the strings and his fingers worked fast but easily. Sherlock had taught him well and Hamish had learnt so brilliantly and with great dedication.

As he came to the end of the piece his eyes opened and he gave a little bow as the few in the room clapped.

"That was brilliant, Hay!" John grinned and ruffled his hair as the boy sat down. Sherlock put an arm around him and gave him a little chuffed squeeze.

"You're incredibly talented! Have you ever performed in front of a crowd or gone into any competitions?" Mrs Smith asked enthusiastically as Hamish gave her back the violin.

"No." Hamish said.

"Would you like to?" she asked.

"No to the competitions. But I wouldn't mind performing to others." Hamish said.

"Well, we have an end of year concert coming up where people showcase their talents and give out awards. Parents are invited to." She explained.

"I could…" Hamish said, looking at the violin to the side.

"It could be good for your confidence." John said.

"Maybe. Can I choose what I play?" he asked.

"Of course. But you can show me before so I can check it's all good." She said.

"Alright then, I'll do that." Hamish nodded "It could be fun!" he added.

"Great!" she grinned "You do have your own violin?" she asked.

"Yes!" Hamish grinned; he could picture clearly his violin that was in the corner of the living room, next to his Pa's.

"Good! Then I'll talk to you more in the run-up. It's in about a month, you'll get more information soon, we're just organising time and such." She smiled.

"Okay." Hamish nodded.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you and talking with you, Hamish is a joy to teach." She shook Sherlock and John's hands and the three left.

"You really make us very proud, Hay." John said with one hand entwined with Sherlock's and he put his arm around Hamish's shoulders.

"Indeed." Sherlock nodded.

Hamish smiled "Does that mean we can get some sweets on the way home?" he asked.

John and Sherlock shared a chuckle at their son and Sherlock said "Yes."

Hamish grinned and did a little "Yes!" in congratulations to himself.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

On Thursday Hamish walked into his tutor room and put his PE kit in his locker for the Rugby after school.

"Alright, Mish?" George and a few others liked to nickname Hamish with things like "Mish" and "Misha", Hamish didn't mind.

"I'm good, thank you. Was your parent's evening okay?" Hamish asked as they walked to their seats at the front, they sat together now.

"It was good. My parents were proud." George smiled.

"Great!" Hamish nodded and they sat.

"Misha, people keep looking at you." George said.

"Oh. That's because they all now know I have two dads." Hamish explained.

"I hope nobody is an idiot about it." George put a hand on Hamish's shoulder.

"Thanks. Me too." Hamish nodded.

Tutor was fine, nobody commented on anything.

The next lesson was Science. The classroom had no teacher yet so the students just sat around talking. There was a rather large group surrounding Theodore, but he was popular so it wasn't abnormal.

Everyone settled when the teacher entered but oddly some people kept smirking and looking sideways at Hamish.

"Right, books out, fellows! Let's crack on with some physics!" the man grinned and tapped a key on the keyboard to spark it from it's power-save mode and to get the smart-board to work.

Everyone stared at the board and Hamish's eyes widened as his dad's blog appeared on it.

Hamish's fists clenched. It was on a particular post with a picture on it. Sherlock and John were sat on the sofa with Hamish between them. Hamish was only about four years old.

"What?" the teacher mumbled as he took in the screen "Okay, what is this and who put it on here?" he asked the class.

"That's Hamish's daddies, sir!" Theodore shouted out.

Hamish stood up, went over to the computer and pressed the exit button until the picture and blog were gone from the screen, he calmly sat back down.

"And, why did you do this?" the teacher asked impatiently.

"You can't prove I did it. But I know we did it because it's funny." Theo chortled.

Others giggled and nodded.

"No it isn't." Hamish said bravely and everyone looked over at him "You think it's funny that you've just wasted the beginning of our lesson showing everyone my dad's blog, and pictures of my family? I don't find it remotely amusing." Hamish said.

"Alright, don't get your knickers in a twist!" Benjamin, Theodore's best friend heckled.

The class laughed.

"I haven't. You guys, all seem very hung up on this. So why don't you just keep your noses out of my business." Hamish stated.

"It's on the internet! It is everyone's business if they want it to be." Theodore justified himself.

"Oh, you complete moron. My dad's blog is for the public, it is a very well-known blog. He posted one picture of us all together on it, and that was because some old friends of his had asked for one. And it was in the paper anyway." Hamish explained "But just because it's on the internet doesn't mean it's yours. My family shared that; we can just as easily take it away. My face may be on one internet site, but it doesn't give you any rights to me or my life, it just means you can see it when you go on that page, that's it!" Hamish said, exasperated.

"Ohhh, 'dad'. So, whose the other one? 'Mum'?" Theodore teased.

"No." Hamish glared at the boy "It's Papa."

"Oh you are so pretentious! 'That's right papa, let's eat some scones and have a jolly good time learning about science'." Theodore mocked which earned him laughter from the class.

"Theodore Smith, out of this classroom this instant! Wait in the hall!" the teacher shouted.

"But sir, it's just a joke." Theodore groaned.

"I said out." The teacher seethed and Theo huffed and left.

"Teasing will not be tolerated." He said and started teaching.

All day at school Hamish could tell people were gossiping about him. He tried to ignore it, but at Lunch, while he was playing with a tennis ball George had brought in with their friends, Theodore and Benjamin came up to him.

"Oi, Hamish!" Theodore called.

"What?" Hamish asked, his friends all turned to watch.

"You do know that parents have sex, right?" Theodore said confidently.

"Erm… yes." Hamish said quietly.

"It's just… I feel well sorry for you. At least my parents do it the natural way. Yours have both got dicks so they can't do it properly." Theodore explained.

"You're an actual idiot." Hamish stated.

"Oh, so you know all about it, do you?" Theodore laughed.

"No. But I know that being gay is as normal as being straight. Just like, being blonde is as normal as being a brunette." Hamish said.

"Gayness isn't normal." Theodore cackled.

"Yes it is." Hamish protested.

"Isn't." Theodore replied.

"Just leave me alone, I don't care what you say." Hamish said with an angry frown.

"Ohh, alright!" Theodore sang and a few older boys and girls sauntered over, they were about fifteen.

"Hey, don't be mean." A girl said in defence of Hamish.

"I'm not. I'm just saying that his dads are wrong." Theodore explained.

"'Dads'?" one of them raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's got gay dads." Theodore said attentively to the boy.

"Eww, man, that's nasty!" one of the elder boys said loudly.

"Hey, I said leave him alone, Frank! Be nice, look he looks really upset." The girl gestured to Hamish.

"He probably got taught that it was okay to cry, gays are all emotional, aren't they?" another boy pointed out.

Hamish was almost shaking in anger, he felt extremely vulnerable as the elders towered over him.

"Aww, look at his face. You got problems?" Frank asked.

"No. Can you all just go away?" he asked and turned away.

As he walked away he suddenly felt a massive impact right on his backside and he was forced forward, he hit the floor and lay there on his stomach for a few moments as many laughed. The girl and George were by his side instantly.

"Hamish, are you alright?" George asked and the two helped him up. Hamish rubbed at his teary eyes. His hands stung and his front was covered in chalk and muddy patches, it wasn't the cleanest area to play but they liked it there.

It had been Theodore who had kicked his bum and sent him flying to the ground.

Right now, all Hamish wanted was his parents.

"Aww, look, he's crying!" Benjamin exclaimed.

"Come on, sweetie, do you want to go to medical?" the girl asked kindly.

Hamish nodded shakily; now the shock was going he could feel blood running down his knees. The girl, who soon informed them that her name was Joyce, and George took Hamish to the medical room where the Nurse tutted and handed him wipes and ice.

"A terrible business, bullying." She mumbled as she put plasters on his knees.

She looked up at him and said "We'll tell the headmaster all about this incident, it will go on file and those boys will be punished. Would you like to go home?" she asked gently.

"Yes, please." Hamish nodded.

"Okay, let me just ring your parents." She sat at her desk and picked up the phone.

"I've got to go to class now. I hope you feel better, and don't worry, I'll be telling Frank and all those other arses off for this." She said, put a hand on his shoulder, and left just after he said a quiet "Thank you."

"George, class time." The Nurse called over as she tried another number.

"Alright miss. See you later, Misha." He said and left.

John was at work today so Sherlock had the house to himself to experiment with the effects of substances on CDs. He was washing his hands thoroughly after clearing the experiment away when the phone rang. He sighed, towelled his hands dry and went to answer it.

"Watson-Holmes, Sherlock speaking." He answered.

"Hello, Mr Watson-Holmes, I'm Nurse Masters from your son, Hamish's, school. There's been a bit of an incident this lunch time, Hamish encountered some rather nasty teasing and was pushed over, he's alright, just a few cuts on his knees and hands and a bit of a fright, but he's okay. He needs picking up, he doesn't have to come home, he's fine in himself, but he's had a little fright." The Nurse explained.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Sherlock hung up and ran out of the flat, worry for his son flooded his veins; he hailed a taxi and was quickly on his way to Hamish's school.

Hamish moved from the nurse's office to the reception area to wait for his dad, the Nurse had gone and got his stuff from his locker, his books and bags and jacket.

Hamish was sat on a chair waiting for one or both of his parents to arrive. He just wanted to go home.

The door opened and Sherlock ran in, slightly out of breath.

"Papa!" Hamish exclaimed, thoroughly relieved.

"Hamish, it's alright." Sherlock went over to him and pulled him in for a hug; Hamish buried his face in his papa's chest and gripped onto him tightly.

"I want to go home." Hamish said desperately.

"It's okay, we'll be home soon. I've got you now. No nasty brattish kids will ever lay a finger on you while I'm here." Sherlock promised and stroked Hamish's hair comfortingly.

"Sir, excuse me, sir!" the receptionist called over.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked the man ill-temperedly.

"We need you to sign Hamish out, please." The man held out a clipboard with paper on it.

Sherlock huffed and Hamish pulled away. Sherlock kept an arm around his son and signed the form then steered him out.

"What happened? And tell me the truth, I can tell that you are hesitant to tell me something, you keep wringing your hands. Just tell me the truth." Sherlock said encouragingly as they got into the cab that had waited for him.

"Well, everyone has been talking behind my back. And this morning, in Science, Theodore had set the smart board to dad's blog, to the post with a picture of us three. I believe he wanted to embarrass me and show off my home life to everyone. Then at Lunch he and Benjamin started teasing me. Saying things about how their parents have sex naturally, but you don't. He asked if you were 'mummy' because dad is called 'dad'. Then some older people came over, a girl, Joyce, told Theo and Ben to stop picking on me. Then they told the older kids that I had gay dads, and then they started teasing me, well, all except Joyce. I told them to go away and when I went to walk away Theodore kicked my bum and I fell over. George and Joyce took me to medical." Hamish explained.

"Oh, Hay, I'm sorry sweetheart." Sherlock said sadly and pulled Hamish into his side.

"It isn't your fault. They're just close-minded and mean and wrong. I'm not ashamed of you and dad, I will never be ashamed to have two dads, I'm actually very proud of that. You're just as normal and natural with each other as any other couple." Hamish said.

"You're such a brilliant son, what did John and I ever do to deserve you?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish laughed and put on a deep-announcer's voice and said "With the combined powers of Sherlock and John they created the incredible, the wonderful, HAMISH!" Hamish spread his arms out joyfully with a grin. Sherlock laughed and they pulled up to Baker Street.

As they entered Sherlock said "So, what do you want to do? It is my mission to cheer you up! Anything, for the rest of the evening!" Sherlock said and stood in the centre of the living room.

"Can we go out and get some fish and chips for tea? And can we take Gladstone with us? And can we watch a movie and can we just do lots of stuff?" Hamish asked with a smile.

"Alright. We'll go out and have some fish and chips at about five o'clock, okay? Dad gets back at four. Would you like to watch the film now or later, with dad as well?" Sherlock asked.

"Later. Can we play one of my video games now?" Hamish asked.

Sherlock wasn't a fan of Hamish's video games. They'd bought him a Nintendo wii for Christmas and his favourite game was something to do with cars on a track.

"Alright." Sherlock nodded.

"Yes!" Hamish grinned and set the controls and television up.

They had an enjoyable few hours together, playing Hamish's video games and things like that.

"I'm Home!" John announced as he entered.

"Hi, dad!" Hamish waved then cheered as he won the car race.

"John," Sherlock stood up and took John's hand gently.

"Yes?" John's face went from happy to concerned in seconds.

"Hamish had an incident of bullying at school today, he came home at Lunch. Some boys, two from his class, and a few older than him, verbally bullied him… concerning us and our relationship. And Theodore, a boy in Hamish's class, kicked him on the bum and he fell over. But the school is taking measures to punish the children and Hamish is okay now, just cuts on his knees and hands. "Sherlock explained.

"What! Oh, God, are you alright?" John rushed over to Hamish and knelt in front of him.

"I'm fine, dad! Papa's cheering me up! We're going to go and get some fish and chips and take Gladstone for a walk and watch a film together tonight!" Hamish smiled.

"You're sure you're okay?" John checked.

"I am. No idiots are going to ruin my day… well, they did for a bit but I'm okay now!" Hamish smiled.

"Well, I'm glad. So, do you want to take Gladstone out now? And get fish and chips on our way home?" John asked.

"Sure! Gladstone!" Hamish got his lead and the British bulldog came bounding up to Hamish.

The three took a walk around the park, Gladstone ran around their feet, Sherlock and John held hands and Hamish was full of questions, as normal, varying from science to the magazine he'd seen about some famous lady and her husband getting a divorce.

They tied Gladstone to a dog post outside the fish and chip shop, he was a well-trained dog, and they could see him from inside the shop so it was fine. The three ordered their meal and waited on the benches with the others for it to finish cooking.

Hamish was sat between his parents talking animatedly about a trick he'd seen on the television that you can train dogs to do and he was going to attempt to train Gladstone to do it.

The door opened and two sets of thumping footsteps came inside.

Hamish's eyes widened when he heard that familiar voice. He looked up and saw Theodore and a man, his dad, ordering their sausage in batter and chips.

"Hamish? You trailed off there, what about the method?" John asked.

"John." Sherlock said.

"Yeah?" John asked.

"Hamish? Is that one of the bullies?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish nodded.

"Right, come outside with me. John, meet us in the sweet shop two doors down from here once you've got the food." Sherlock said.

"Alright." John smiled.

Hamish and Sherlock left quickly and Theodore and his dad took their vacated spots, Theodore hadn't realised Hamish had even been in the shop.

John's hands were in fists, he felt so angry at the boy who had upset his son. He didn't want to hurt him, he just wanted to shout at him and get him to see that his behaviour was so wrong! To kick his son was horrible!

Theodore looked around the shop but his eyes paused on a man who was looking down at his feet. He looked very familiar, with a few more seconds of staring Theodore's eyes widened and he whispered over to his dad "That's the boy's dad."

"Hmm?" his dad asked.

"That's the boy who got me in trouble's dad. The gay one." Theodore whispered.

"If you have something to say. Speak up." John said to him.

"Oi, don't tell my son what to do." The man said.

"Your son bullied and kicked my son today, I am not happy." John said.

"Number 4!" The man at the counter called.

John stood up, retrieved the bag of fish and chips and with a glare at the two he left.

When he found Hamish and Sherlock they went home and put the bullies from their minds, just enjoying each other's company.

Hamish chose 'Pirates of the Caribbean', which made John smirk at Sherlock. The three watched it, sat on the sofa with the fireplace lit and eating fish and chips off plates on their laps. Gladstone was curled around Hamish's feet and they had a lovely evening.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

The following morning John went up to Hamish's room to wake him up. His son was sleeping peacefully and John dreaded the day ahead. Right here, he could protect Hamish. But when Hamish was at school, there was nothing he could do. He sighed and shook Hamish's shoulder.

"M..tired…" Hamish mumbled.

"I know, come on, sweetheart, wake up, school in an hour." John said.

Hamish groaned and slowly opened his eyes.

"Can't I stay at home?" he asked.

"No, school is important." John said.

"I'm ahead of everyone in all my subjects though!" Hamish pouted.

"I know. But it's important you go, get it over with, yeah?" John asked.

"But my knees hurt a bit." Hamish tried.

"I know, let me just have a quick look at them actually." John said.

Hamish pulled up his pyjama trouser legs and showed John the healing knees.

"They look just fine, healing nicely." John smiled.

"I don't want to go. What if they're all mean again?" Hamish asked.

"Stick with George, your friends. And hey, if you want, you can invite some friends over for tea? Would that be good? Take your mind off the horrid people?" John suggested.

"Okay. Can I invite George, Daniel and Davesh?" he asked.

"Sure, three is a good number." John smiled.

"Tonight or another day?" Hamish queried.

"Tonight is fine. Papa said your Uncle Greg has said there are no signs of any good new cases." John said.

"Okay." Hamish smiled and nodded, sitting up.

"Feeling better now?" John asked.

Hamish nodded.

"I'll go and make you breakfast." John smiled.

When Hamish arrived at school he went straight to find his friends, he kept his head down and once he found George he smiled.

"You feeling better?" George asked.

"Yep. Guys, I have good news!" Hamish said to the three he was going to invite, they were his only friends here.

"What is it?" Davesh asked excitedly.

"My parents say you can come to my house tonight for tea!" Hamish smiled.

"Yay!" Daniel smiled and got his mobile out "I'll text my mum, ask her if it's okay." He said.

"Wait, what time do you want to go home?" Hamish asked.

"Erm… around eight?" Davesh suggested.

"Sounds good. Why don't you each send this message to your parents: I've been invited to Hamish's house for tea, 221B Baker Street, can I go and you pick me up at eight?" Hamish said.

"Sounds good." The three got their mobiles out and started texting. At break they all checked their phones again and they could all go.

Hamish's day was going well, he was excited about his friends coming over for tea and so far nobody had said anything rude or mean.

But during science he sat down and began to work on some extra questions his teacher had given him when he was hit in the back by a ball of paper, he turned around and saw the row behind fighting giggles. He picked up the piece of paper and unscrewed it; he found a printed picture of him and his dads on it, the one that had been on his dad's blog.

He folded the paper up and put it in his blazer pocket.

He got three more balls of paper thrown at him. All of which he calmly picked up, unscrewed, found the same picture printed on it, folded up, and put in his jacket pocket.

"Hey, Hamish." Someone whispered from behind. He turned and found a rather popular girl he'd never spoken to before had called for him.

"Yes?" Hamish asked.

"They're all too shy to ask, but are you gay too?" she asked.

"Oh my God, you're all so ignorant." Hamish rolled his eyes in irritation "My parents' sexuality has no effect on my own. And I'm twelve, I don't know what I am, and even if I did know it is still none of your business and it doesn't matter anyway."

"What? You don't know whether you like boys or girls?" her friend asked.

"I haven't had any feelings yet towards anyone. Some people know very young, some people don't know for sure until they're a lot older, it's a fact." Hamish said.

"You're such a freak." The girl sat back in irritation.

Hamish turned around and got back on with his work.

Theodore hadn't said or done anything that day, obviously the school was keeping a close eye on him, but he gave Hamish dirty looks when he walked past.

At the end of school the day hadn't gone as badly as Hamish had expected, he could tell people were talking about him, and he had a pocket-full of pictures of his family, but other than that it hadn't been nearly as bad as the previous day.

He met all his friends at the school gate and he said "Look out for a black cab." He advised them.

"There!" Daniel pointed.

"There they are!" Hamish smiled.

The three boys followed their friend to the cab and they climbed in. Sherlock was the one picking them up today.

"Hi, papa." Hamish smiled and hugged his papa quickly then settled beside him.

"Hello, Mr Watson-Holmes." Daniel waved and the greeting was repeated by Davesh as the boys settled.

"Call me Sherlock, please." Sherlock said. And said "221B Baker Street!" to the driver.

"Good day at school?" Sherlock asked Hamish.

"It was a lot better than yesterday. But I got hit in the back in Science with these." He fished the papers out of his pocket. He handed them to Sherlock who unfolded them and raised his eyebrows.

"Just ignore them. I don't see how they can think this is insulting." He added.

"Me too." Hamish nodded "Nobody has a derp-face or anything." He added.

"A what-face?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Like your face looks funny. Like this." Hamish demonstrated by arranging his features in an unflattering way.

"Oh." Sherlock nodded in understanding and they pulled up at Baker Street.

"When you get in, remember, don't touch my experiments." Sherlock said firmly.

The four children got out of the cab followed by Sherlock and made their way into 221B.

They ran upstairs but all stopped short at the sight in the living room. A woman was sat on the sofa while John was sat on his armchair.

"Ah, Miss Adler, it's been a long time since we last saw you. Fourteen years, is it?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, it must be. I must say, we've all aged well." She smiled.

"Well, it's good to see you, but as you can see, Hamish has friends round, so if you could come back after eight." Sherlock said.

"Is that Irene Adler?" Hamish asked.

"That's me. And how exciting, I finally get to meet your little boy." Irene stood up and approached him, studying him for a moment before looking at Sherlock "Anyway, I have a case for you." She said.

Sherlock looked at her for a few moments, judging the importance of her case.

"Okay. Come to the kitchen with John and I. Boys, feel free to do what you wish, but nothing dangerous." Sherlock said.

"Okay! You can come up and see my room!" Hamish said happily and his three friends followed him, saying a quick hello to John along the way.

"Who was that? She was very pretty." George asked once they were up in Hamish's room and after Davesh and Daniel had had a nose around and they were all sat around, George and Hamish on Hamish's bed and Daniel and Davesh on the floor next to them.

"Irene Adler. My parents had a case to do with her before I was born, and around about the time they got together. My dad isn't too fond of her, my papa likes her because she's a challenge." Hamish explained.

John knocked on the door and walked in "I'm thinking dinner at half past six? Are any of you allergic to anything or vegetarian or anything like that?" he asked.

All the boys shook their heads.

"Okay, how about spaghetti Bolognese? And if you don't like anything, just say so." John asked.

"I love spaghetti." Davesh said.

"Me too." Daniel nodded.

"I like it." George nodded.

"Great then, we'll have that around half six." John smiled.

"Dad, what's going on with that woman downstairs?" Hamish asked quickly before he left.

"Oh, just a case. Should keep your papa entertained though. She's having some difficulties with a former… partner of hers, he's got some stuff of hers and she needs it back." John explained.

"Oh, okay!" Hamish nodded.

Once John left Daniel said "So your parents are like detectives?"

"Yes. They work together to solve crimes. But dad is also a doctor." Hamish explained.

"It must be so much fun! Do you ever get to go along with them on their cases?" Davesh asked.

"Sometimes, if it's safe enough. But even when it's meant to be safe sometimes it isn't. Do you want to go on the internet?" Hamish asked.

"Yeah!" Daniel exclaimed.

"I'll go get my dad's laptop. One minute." Hamish said and jogged out, he ran into the kitchen where the three adults were.

"Dad, can I borrow your laptop?" Hamish asked.

"Sure, what do you need it for?" John asked.

"I don't know, just going on some games and stuff." Hamish explained.

"Alright then, it's by my side of the bed." John said, ran his hand through Hamish's hair fondly and the boy called "Thanks!" and went to get it.

He and his friends spent their time on the internet, typing amusing questions into google and playing some games.

"Dinner, boys!" John called from downstairs.

There were thunderous steps coming down the stairs and they all came into the kitchen, Irene Adler had obviously left. There were 6 places set at the table. Sherlock sat at the head of the table and judging by the bear bottle John would sit next to him. The boys sat on the other seats.

John served the spaghetti Bolognese and sat beside Sherlock and Hamish was sat on his other side.

The four boys chattered away happily, laughter frequently erupting from the group.

"Sorry, where's the loo?" Daniel asked.

"Just down there, the door on the right." John pointed.

Daniel got up and left with a thanks.

He came back with one of Hamish's Epi-Pens in his hands "I was washing my hands and I knocked my head on the bathroom cupboard and this fell out." He said.

"That's one of Hamish's Epi-Pens. Are you alright?" John asked, standing and taking the pen off of the boy.

"I'm fine, barely a bump." Daniel smiled "I'm glad, I bruise like a peach." He chuckled and sat down.

"Good. I'll just put this back." John smiled, when he got back Davesh said "Why do you have one of those pens? What's it for?" he asked.

"I'm allergic to peanuts. So if I ingest one I need a shot of adrenaline. Luckily I haven't been affected in years." Hamish explained.

"Ah, I'm allergic to kiwi… well, it makes my tongue go sore." Daniel said.

Hamish chuckled "Well, mine is a little more serious than an itchy tongue."

"When did you find out you had the allergy?" Davesh asked curiously.

"Too young to remember much. I just remember dad standing on a chair shouting at everyone about something and papa trying to keep me calm." Hamish said.

"You were about five. We went to a pub." John informed them; he had everyone's attention "You asked if you could have some peanuts and we said you could, you'd never tried them before. And once you did you started to feel weird and you couldn't breathe. I stood on a chair and asked everyone there if anyone had an Epi-Pen. Thank God someone did, it wasn't the correct dosage but it was better than nothing. And you could breathe a little easier. We went to the hospital, got you sorted out properly, and then we took you home. Luckily we've managed to evade any more incidents since then." John explained.

"Your dad was brilliant." Sherlock smiled.

"You did your bit, Sherlock. Just because I had more experience in what to do doesn't mean you weren't great too." John said.

"What did you do?" Hamish asked, interested in finding out about moments he doesn't remember.

"I had to hold you, get any bits of peanuts out of your mouth, keep you calm, things like that." Sherlock said.

"It must have been scary." George said.

"It was. But Hamish was very brave." Sherlock said, reached past John and ruffled his blonde curls.

"Anyway, what time are your parents picking you up?" John asked as they finished their meal.

"Eight o'clock." George said.

"Just enough time for a film, if you want." Hamish said.

"Cool! Have you got any scary films?" Daniel asked excitedly.

"Are you all twelve? And we'll know if you're lying, Sherlock is a genius." John asked.

"Yeah, we're all twelve. I'm actually the second-youngest! Davesh was born in February and George and Daniel in September." Hamish said.

"Okay then, you can watch a twelve." Sherlock said firmly.

"Yes!" Daniel grinned.

They decided to watch a horror movie which was just near the end when the kids' parents arrived. Davesh's were first to arrive. His mum came in and John made her some tea and they sat in the kitchen with Sherlock. Soon they were joined by George's mum and Daniel's dad.

"I hope they don't have nightmares from that film." George's mum commented.

"I know. We said they could watch a twelve as they're allowed to. But you know when kids are fine watching certain films around friends but as soon as it's bedtime they're like "Dad, don't switch off the landing light! Have you checked in the wardrobe?" It's ridiculous." John shook his head while others chuckled in understanding.

They continued to chat while they waited for the film to finish. At one point John looked over to Sherlock, who was sat next to him and said "Don't move."

Sherlock stilled and John delicately brushed a bit of fluff out of Sherlock's curls "All done." He smiled.

At that moment Gladstone came in and sat himself under the table.

"Aww, tired from all the boys?" Davesh's mum asked.

"Probably, they spent about half an hour playing with him, he's all worn out." John smiled fondly at the dog.

The film finished and the four boys came into the kitchen.

"Did you have a nice time?" Daniel's dad asked.

"Yeah! We went on the computer and played with Gladstone and watched a properly scary film!" Daniel grinned excitedly.

"Sounds fun." Daniel's dad ruffled his son's hair.

By nine o'clock the house was back to just holding the Watson-Holmes'.

"You had a nice time tonight, yeah?" John asked as he and Hamish sat on the sofa together, John gently ran his fingers through Hamish's hair repetitively.

"Yeah, it was fun." Hamish nodded.

"And school wasn't too bad? Papa told me about the pictures." John commented.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be." Hamish smiled.

"Good, Papa and I just want you to be happy." John said.

"I know. Dad?" Hamish asked, leaning into John's side.

"Hmm?" John asked.

"I'm going to bed now, but can you leave the landing light on when I'm asleep?" Hamish asked.

John chuckled "Fine."

Sherlock came back from the bathroom and tiredly sat on John's lap.

"Hey!" John protested weakly.

"Bed time? I want to start the Adler case tomorrow morning." Sherlock asked.

"Sure, all of us to bed, I think." John nodded, Sherlock didn't like going to bed without John.

And soon enough the house was quiet as everyone slept.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Apologies for the delay, please review and I'll try to be quicker next time! :D**

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" John called through the house.

"What?" Sherlock asked irritably as he was attempting to experiment with ten goldfish that were currently swimming around their bath tub (not to John's knowledge). Sherlock quickly jogged out and closed the bathroom door, John wouldn't be happy if he found the fish in the same bathtub that everyone in their family used.

"Yes, darling?" Sherlock asked sweetly.

John was holding a phone and he frowned when he saw Sherlock "What are you hiding? You called me 'darling' and your sleeves are wet." John asked.

"I'm not hiding anything." Sherlock covered "I just love you so much that you are my darling." Sherlock said, always cover lies with truths. He leant down and pressed his lips to John's insistently. John got caught up in a fantastic kiss but pulled away once a smell hit his nose.

"Fish?" he asked "And Sherlock, lying and covering it up with a truth doesn't make it better. What have you got in the bathroom? Is it full of dead fish or something?"

"Not dead fish." Sherlock sighed "And sorry for lying… but you'll be angry."

"The longer it takes you to tell you what is in our bathroom the more pissed off I'll be, please, just show me." John sighed.

"Gold fish." Sherlock stated.

"Gold fish?" John asked.

"Ten of them, I'm watching them swim." Sherlock explained.

"Ah, well, better than fish guts. But I want you, yes you, Sherlock, to properly thoroughly clean… I'm guessing right that they're in the bathtub?" John asked.

"I'll show you." Sherlock took John's hand and pulled him into the bathroom and over to the tub.

John accepted that there was nothing he could do now so he smiled and said "Where did you get them?"

"A garden centre that sells fish." Sherlock explained and they knelt beside the tub and watched the fish.

"I can't believe about 12 hours ago we were sat in this bath. And now it's full of gold fish." John said.

"That was a good bath." Sherlock smiled at the recent memory.

"It was." John nodded, a small proud smile on his face.

"You wanted to talk to me? You were calling for me." Sherlock suddenly said.

"Oh yes, your mother rang. She's invited us to dinner this weekend." John said.

"Oh, I don't want to go. Hamish has had a bad week, I have my fish, it isn't practical to go away for dinner." Sherlock said.

"I've kind of already agreed." John winced "Sorry. But maybe it would be nice, get away from London; Hamish'll have something else to concentrate on. And I'm sure Mrs Hudson can keep your fish alive for a day."

"Fine." Sherlock sighed, but he wasn't overly happy about it.

"Cool." John nodded.

"Did you just say 'cool'?" Sherlock asked.

"Maybe I did." John raised an eyebrow.

Sherlock chuckled and kissed his husband.

Later that day John picked Hamish up from school, the last day of the school week, thankfully.

"Have you had a good day?" John asked in the cab.

"It was alright. I stuck with my friends so it wasn't too bad. Someone set my computer background to a picture of us but other than that there wasn't much bother." Hamish answered.

"Well, I'm glad it's getting a bit better. And, this weekend we're going to grandma and granddads, they've invited us for dinner." John explained.

"Oh, well will it just be us and them or will anyone else be there?" Hamish asked.

"Uncle Greg and Mycroft and Sam will be there, as will some of Sherlock's cousins and such. You've met them, but you may not remember them." John explained.

"Okay, well that shouldn't be too bad." Hamish reasoned.

"Oh, and your dad has something to show you when we get home!" John smiled.

Once they were home Hamish ran upstairs and found Sherlock in the bathroom.

"Hay! Come and look at this!" Sherlock gestured. Hamish entered the room and his eyes widened "That's so cool!" he grinned.

"I know." Sherlock nodded.

The following day they all got ready to go to Arthur and Mildred Holmes' home.

When they arrived they found that Joanna and her parents were there, as were the tiplets, but they weren't there with their parents, as their parents were out of the country at a meeting. All the children were much older now, especially Kevil, Colin and Summer.

"Wow, Hamish, you've grown." Summer said with wide eyes.

"You haven't seen him since he was about five." John commented with a smile.

"I know, it's just so strange, he's not a little boy anymore." Summer said.

"Thanks…?" Hamish said awkwardly.

In the evening the family sat around the table tucking into their meal, as they began the main course Hamish happily crunched on his meal full of flavour, he wasn't exactly sure what he was eating, it looked fancy though.

Suddenly he felt his mouth tingling, he emptied his mouth of food immediately.

"Hamish, manners." Mildred admonished.

Hamish suddenly grabbed his throat, his eyes wide.

"Hamish?" John asked, his parents were sat on either side of him.

"Can't breathe." He struggled as he felt his throat closing up.

"Is their peanuts in his food?" John asked Mildred quickly.

"Erm… I don't know, maybe, I didn't cook this, the chef made it." She stammered.

"Well, there must be, shoot, where's his Epi-Pen?" John asked urgently, he stood up and ran out of the room.

"It's alright, just keep calm." Sherlock slowly helped Hamish out of his chair, holding up most of his son's weight. He lay him on the ground on his back and ran a soothing hand through his blonde curls, kneeling next to him.

"Dad will be here really soon with your pen. You'll be fine." Sherlock said gently as his son went into anaphylactic shock.

"Pa…" Hamish struggled to say. Sherlock held his hand firmly "You'll be fine, I'm here." Sherlock said, resting his forehead on Hamish's comfortingly.

Hamish whimpered as he fought to breathe.

"Hamish, Hamish breathe, please." Sherlock said, worry doubling.

John ran back in, Epi-Pen in hand.

"John, hurry, he's barely breathing." Sherlock urged, one hand gripping Hamish's smaller hand and one running through his hair, trying to comfort his son whose neck and tongue was swelling.

John readied the pen, then firmly pressed it into Hamish's thigh, counted to ten, then pulled it out and massaged the spot where the pen had gone in.

"Is it working? Can someone phone for an ambulance!?" John asked.

Arthur was quickly up and out to ring 999.

"Hamish, can you hear me, sweetheart?" John asked, moving up towards Hamish's upper half.

"Da…" Hamish groaned.

"His breathing is easing." Sherlock informed John. John took Hamish's pulse at his wrist.

"His heart is fast, but it's calming down. Come on; let's put him on the sofa till the ambulance arrives." John picked Hamish up and quickly carried him through to the living room, the family all followed.

"Will he be alright?" Sam asked nervously.

"Hopefully the ambulance will get here before the reaction starts again. The Epi-Pen only helps for a bit." John explained as he laid Hamish on the sofa.

Sherlock returned to Hamish's side and took his hand again. Hamish wasn't totally aware of everything around him; the adrenaline in him was helping considerably though.

John stroked his hair gently.

"They say they'll be here in five minute." Arthur said "Is he okay now?"

"Not out of the woods, just better for now." John said "Hamish, how do you feel, is it easier to breathe?" he asked clearly.

Hamish nodded weakly and whimpered quietly.

"I've never seen him have a reaction." Sam said.

"He's only had one, and that was when he found out he had an allergy, he's done really well to avoid peanuts so far." Sherlock said.

Hamish made a rough gasping sound and Sherlock grabbed John's hand "John, I'm scared." Sherlock said, tears shining in his eyes.

Johns squeezed his hand "It's going to be fine." he said firmly.

Sherlock nodded and leant over, he pressed a kiss to Hamish's forehead then rested his forehead against his son's, he hoped his wilful thoughts would drive Hamish to keep going. He was fine for now but it could worsen.

"Hamish, breathe nice and calmly, that's it. You'll be fine." John said.

A few minutes later an ambulance's sirens were heard. The paramedics were let in and they rushed over to the boy.

"His name's Hamish, 12 years old. He had peanuts in his food and he's allergic, he went into anaphylactic shock but we've given him a shot of adrenaline." John explained quickly.

The paramedics immediately started checking Hamish's vital signs, John pulled Sherlock out of the way and the paramedics quickly put Hamish on a stretcher and went to leave the house. Sherlock and John followed and got into the ambulance with them, watching as an oxygen mask was placed over their son's mouth.

**EDIT: I was told by a guest reviewer that apparently epi-pens are meant to be inserted through clothes. I wasn't aware, in my research it sounded like it was meant to go in the thigh so I assumed you were meant to take the person's trousers off for easy entrance into the skin, you know? So I've corrected this :) and hope that makes it more accurate. I myself don't have allergies, nor do I know anyone in need of an Epi-Pen, so I go on research from google.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

About four hours of worry later Hamish was completely stable and well on his way to recovery. He was in a private room, sleeping off drugs and looking so small in that hospital bed.

John and Sherlock sat beside each other on chairs next to their son's bed.

"John?" Sherlock suddenly broke the silence.

"Hmm?" John asked while watching Hamish breathe.

"Do you think Hamish would like to see a Shakespeare play in the Globe?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, why?" John asked.

"I thought it might be a nice idea. They have The Tempest playing at the moment. Shall I book tickets?" Sherlock asked, holding out his mobile.

"How much is it?" John asked, finally looking over at his husband who had been tapping away at his mobile for the last few minutes.

"We want good seats, middle gallery, the centre so we can look straight down at the stage, and at the front of the row so we can lean against the railings… that'll be thirty five pounds." Sherlock smiled.

"Alright, I was expecting it to be more." John said.

Sherlock started tapping furiously at his phone "Tomorrow night?" he asked.

John nodded then once Sherlock smiled in satisfaction of booking the tickets he took his hand "Sherlock, I know you were really scared earlier, I was too…. But I just want to check that you're okay." John said gently.

Sherlock's gaze softened "I'm fine. I just… I don't ever want Hamish to get hurt." Sherlock said.

"I know. Come here." John opened his arms.

Sherlock moved over and sat in John's lap, wrapping his arms around John's shoulders, pressing his face into his husband's warm shoulder and absorbing that pure comfort that John was giving him.

They stayed there and slowly fell asleep, at around midnight a nurse came in to check on Hamish, as she did so she noticed that he was waking up.

"Hamish? Can you hear me?" she asked.

He nodded blearily and looked around for his parents, his eyes settled on them cuddled up together in a chair and he relaxed.

"Bless them, they fell asleep. How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Tired." Hamish said.

"You will, that's a side-effect of the drugs. But from now I'd say you can go home." She smiled.

Hamish rolled over, which was a little uncomfortable because of some wires and tubing around himself "Dad? Papa?" he asked, though it was difficult to speak with such a dry mouth.

John was instantly awake, quickly followed by Sherlock.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked immediately.

Hamish nodded then frowned "Loo." He said.

"Alright, I'll unhook you from these machines and one of your parents can take you. I wouldn't advise going alone, you might fall or have a funny turn from the drugs." The nurse said as she started unplugging machines.

Sherlock took Hamish to the loo, Hamish had one hand gripping onto Sherlock's and his other arm looped through Sherlock's as they walked, finding his feet weren't co-operating brilliantly with his brain. But they did make it to the toilet without an incident and Hamish was thoroughly relieved once his bladder was empty.

Sherlock helped him back to his room and Hamish sat on the bed.

"We have a surprise for you!" John smiled.

"What is it?" Hamish asked with a weak smile.

"We've booked us all tickets to see The Tempest at Shakespeare's globe." John grinned "Your papa's idea."

"That's so cool!" Hamish perked up "When are we going?"

"Tomorrow night." Sherlock said.

"Thank you!" Hamish grinned.

They took Hamish home a few hours later after the Doctor confirmed he was fine and such. Hamish slept in his parents' room that night, scared he wouldn't be able to breathe again. He took John's side and John and Sherlock lay squished up together on Sherlock's side, the family slept peacefully after a difficult day.

The following day Hamish was very excited to be seeing his first ever play! So that evening the three got ready to go and made their way to Shakespeare's Globe, Sherlock and John's hands were entwined and John had an arm flung around Hamish's shoulder.

When they got to the gate Sherlock showed them the tickets that he'd picked up earlier that day and the three walked through "Look! A gift shop! Can we go in and have a look?" Hamish asked excitedly.

"Just a look though." John said.

They went into the gift shop and had a look around, Hamish bounded up to them with a smile and stood right in front of them innocently "Daddy, Papa, you know I'm your absolute favourite son ever and I'm your baby and you love me more than the universe?" Hamish said.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow, they knew exactly what he was doing.

"Well, can you buy me this, please?" Hamish took his hands from behind his back and held up a t-shirt "It has a tempest quote on it that's really cool. 'Hell is empty and all the devils are here' and I need a new t-shirt anyway, Gladstone chewed a hole in the corner of my green one. Please!" Hamish grinned.

"How much is it?" John asked.

"Twenty pounds." Hamish said.

"Fine." Sherlock said after he and John had shared a conversation in looks.

John fished out his wallet from his pocket and handed Hamish the money and the boy pouted "Can you pay? I don't want to." He said, holding out the money and shirt.

"You're a big boy now, you can do that yourself." Sherlock said.

"I'm not that big! I'm only eleven, And I'm only as tall as dad's chest and the top of your stomach. So really, I'm rather small." Hamish said to Sherlock.

"We'll come with you, but you can do the paying yourself." John reasoned.

Hamish seemed happy with that and soon he had his beloved t-shirt stuffed in his bag and they made their way upstairs and to their seats.

"Wow, we can see perfectly! And there is no chance of a giraffe sitting in front of us!" Hamish said as he leant against the wooden railings.

The globe was packed with excited people; the atmosphere was very communal and happy. Sherlock sat between Hamish and John, his hand on John's thigh and his other hand holding onto the railing. They watched, immersed in the play as soon as it began.

About half way through the first part John tapped Sherlock's side and pointed at Hamish. Hamish was watching, his mouth open slightly in intrigue, leaning his chin on his hands that were planted on the railings. He giggled when something funny happened.

Sherlock turned back to John with a grin and John took the hand that was on his thigh and squeezed it happily.

At the interval Hamish talked non-stop about every moment, Sherlock and John listened as they waited in line for some food and drink. Hamish got some juice, Sherlock and John got beer, and the three got one sandwich to share between them as it was quite large, the bread being a baguette.

They returned to their seats and ate and drank while they waited and as everyone else settled down and enjoyed the rest of the play.

When they got home at eleven o'clock Hamish fell on the sofa tiredly.

"Come on, up you get, go to your own bed." John said, he put his hands under Hamish's armpits and hoisted him back up to stand.

"Tiiired." Hamish moaned, rubbing his eyes.

"We know, but come on; you'll be far more comfortable in bed." John said and with a hand on Hamish's shoulder he guided him upstairs.

"He had a great evening." John smiled as he came down to find Sherlock undressing in their room.

"I know, I'm glad." Sherlock said.

"Did you?" John asked.

"Of course. I actually have a new experiment in mind due to the projection of voice in the globe, it inspired me." Sherlock was naked and just about to put his pyjama trousers on when John held out a hand "Wait…" John said.

"Do you want to…?" Sherlock gestured to the bed.

John smiled "If you want."

"Goodness, yes." Sherlock grinned and within a few short seconds John and Sherlock tumbled onto bed together, their bodies entwined.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

Hamish practiced his violin all the time when the Summer school concert was approaching, he was going to be doing a solo piece in front of parents and students and he wanted it to be good. He had the perfect piece too.

The night before the concert John and Sherlock were sleeping soundly in bed when suddenly they were awoken by the strings on their son's violin.

"This is ridiculous! It's half past four in the morning!" John ranted, incredibly tired. He put on his dressing gown, ensured he tied the knot, and marched out of the room. Sherlock put his own gown on and followed his husband up the stairs.

"Hamish Watson-Holmes! You put that violin down!" John shouted.

Hamish stood in his room in his pyjamas, his violin and bow now held loosely in his hands, dangling by his sides.

"But, dad!" Hamish protested.

"No, it is half past four in the morning! I am incredibly tired after our recent case. I just want six hours sleep without being woken up! I just want that! And you need your sleep too!" John shouted.

"Dad, I was asleep at eight o'clock so that I could have eight hours sleep then start practicing! I need it to be perfect! I can't mess up or everyone will laugh!" Hamish insisted.

"Nobody is going to laugh! You are a twelve year old violinist with incredible talent, you've played that tune hundreds of tunes and each has been perfect. Go back to bed." John said tiredly.

"John, darling," Sherlock stood behind John and ran his hands soothingly up and down John's arms "Go back to bed, I'll sort Hamish out, I promise. Just get some sleep." Sherlock said.

"I'm so tired." John whimpered.

"I know." Sherlock said, kissed John's cheek tenderly, and then gave him a gentle push out the room. John walked sluggishly back to bed.

"Now, I'm going to change into my day clothes, you may as well get into your school uniform. Then meet me in the kitchen. I have a plan." Sherlock smiled.

Hamish hurriedly started to get ready for the day. He got into his school uniform, brushed his teeth, and waited in the kitchen. Sherlock came in with his suit and coat on, his hair had been styled and he looked fresh and ready for the day.

"Have you got your violin?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish lifted up his violin case which held his instrument in answer.

Sherlock nodded and walked out, Hamish followed him quickly and they soon strolled through the empty streets of London, Hamish walked in step with his father (though this was quite the feat due to Sherlock's long legs) "Where are we going, papa?" he asked.

"Wait till we get there." Sherlock smiled.

As they walked through the winding streets Sherlock put an arm around his small son's shoulders and pulled him into his side. Though Hamish wore his jacket it was rather chilly so early. As they walked past a slightly dodgy alleyway Sherlock stood tall and had a firm grip on Hamish's shoulders protectively.

They finally arrived at a theatre.

Sherlock picked the lock and went in; it was old and had the familiar theatre-smell, like varnish, posh perfume, beer, and lots of other smells.

"Why are we here?" Hamish asked "Is this illegal? Are we allowed here… you picked the lock." he whispered urgently.

"We are allowed here. I once worked a case here, they said that I could utilise this place any time I wished. And as it's so early, nobody is here. If they find us it'll be fine, they know me." Sherlock explained reassuringly.

Sherlock led Hamish down some carpeted stairs and through to a large hall with a stage and red comfy chairs, bright red curtains in the background, little wall lamps all around the room that Sherlock had turned on as they entered. There were also massive lights hanging from the ceiling and spot lights too for when people performed.

Sherlock flicked the main performance lights on to ignite the stage and let it shine in it's full majesty.

"It's so… empty." Hamish looked around as he took his jacket off.

"I know. Now, get your violin out, stand on stage, and we'll get to work!" Sherlock smiled.

"Oh, thank you, papa!" Hamish grinned and rushed forward, wrapping his arms around his papa in a tight and grateful hug.

Sherlock chuckled and wrapped Hamish up in a hug "You're welcome, sweetheart." He smiled.

Hamish looked up at his papa and said "Are you worried about me? It's just…. You only call me 'sweetheart' when you're worried." Hamish asked with a concerned frown.

"I'm your papa! I'm always worried about you." Sherlock excused himself.

"No, seriously, papa." Hamish prompted.

"I… I just want it to go well. I know how important this is to you. All this practicing and worrying. I want you to be confident. Just remember, whatever happens, your dad and I will be right there and you're always perfect in our eyes." Sherlock ruffled Hamish's hair.

Hamish laughed "Of course I'm always perfect!" he said sarcastically.

Sherlock sat down in the front row and Hamish stood on the stage and practiced his piece. He got it wrong a few times but Sherlock helped him through the difficult phrases and kept him in time.

"You see? Perfect!" Sherlock grinned as Hamish played the tune three times in a row without fault. Sherlock's phone rang and Hamish listened as he answered "Hello? Ah, John, Hamish and I are at the local theatre… yes, the one I did a case for. He's practicing. This way, I thought he'd get the perfect place to practice in and you'd catch up on some sleep… don't worry, I'll take him to school… I'm taking him for breakfast at a café in a bit… yes, I'll give him lunch money… Yes, John! He has his school equipment! Really, John, I'm not inept at this fatherly thing, I have done it for twelve years now… good. I know that's not what you meant… I know, you're just worrying. Get some more sleep and I'll be home in… an hour. Goodnight, I love you… bye." Sherlock hung up then said "Are we done here? You will also have two hours to practice at home before the concert. By the way, your dad is picking you up from school today." Sherlock said as Hamish packed his violin away.

"Okay." Hamish sang.

At school the bullying had slowly stopped as Hamish hadn't given them anything to fuel the fire. He'd kept quiet, avoided confrontation, and when people did tease him he ignored them. People did still make little comments. But Hamish had George and his other friends so he rather enjoyed school.

Sherlock took Hamish to a café that was near the school and Hamish had some toast with jam.

"Goodness, you're so like your dad. Do you really need that much jam on your toast?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow as he took a bite out of his buttered toast.

"Obviously." Hamish said absent-mindedly and monotonously, making Sherlock choke on his toast in laughter. Hamish frowned at his father's behaviour and watched as the genius pulled his phone out of his pocket and started texting quickly.

_John, Hamish is eating toast smothered in jam and he just said 'obviously'! –SH_

_**Sherlock, why did you wake me up to say that? –JW**_

_Because it reminded me of both of us! –SH_

_**Of course it did, he is our son **____** -JW**_

_It made me laugh. –SH_

_**It is rather amusing. Do you remember when he first ever said 'obviously'. You were in a mood and he kept copying you. –JW**_

_It was very sweet. Got to go and take Hamish to school now. Go back to sleep! –SH_

_**I'll try. Tell Hamish I said 'have a nice day'. –JW**_

_Will do. See you later. –SH_

And Sherlock put his phone back in his pocket.

"Your dad says 'have a nice day'." Sherlock relayed.

Hamish nodded as he finished off his toast.

Sherlock dropped Hamish off at school and gave him a tight hug, Hamish smiled and gave his papa a wave before jogging through the gates and into the crowds of students.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

Hamish stared at the food that his dad had put on his plate for him. Sherlock and John were too busy squabbling well-naturedly to one-another across the table to be aware that Hamish hadn't touched his food yet.

Hamish finally cleared his throat "I'm not hungry, can I go and practice?" he asked.

"You've got to eat!" John insisted and the couple stopped rowing about… goldfish or something.

"But… it's only half past four! I usually don't have dinner till six!" Hamish protested.

"But we're all usually home at six. Tonight is special; I doubt we'll be home until nine or ten. You don't want to be sick on stage because you haven't eaten." John warned.

"Please, I'm not hungry!" Hamish pleaded.

Sherlock leant over and picked up Hamish's fork, piled up some mashed potato onto it then held it in front of his son's mouth.

"No, papa, I'm too old for you to feed me!" Hamish said, eying the food suspiciously.

"Either you eat or I feed you. You haven't eaten since lunch time, you are eating dinner or we're not going to this concert. I will not have you sick on stage, it wouldn't be a nice experience for you." Sherlock stated.

Hamish huffed but ate the potato indignantly.

Mrs Hudson bumbled in and said "Hamish, dear. Good luck tonight at your performance! I can't wait to hear all about it!" and gave him a hug and a kiss on his cheek.

"I'll come to see you when we get back, Gran!" Hamish promised.

"You better." She smiled.

"Sorry we couldn't get you a ticket, Mrs Hudson. It's just that they only allow two people per child." John explained.

"Not to worry, I completely understand." She said and with one more good-luck-Gran-hug she went back to her own flat.

After four mouthfuls of dinner Sherlock passed Hamish the fork and said "Well done. Now, I'll just have a quick look at your violin, check it's in tune and in good condition." He went off to the living room.

"How come papa doesn't have to eat all his dinner but I do?" Hamish asked his dad with a pout.

"Because your papa is a grown adult and also an idiot who enjoys irritating me." John said and took a sip of water.

Hamish chuckled and continued to eat his dinner.

Soon the three were on their way to Hamish's school in a cab. Hamish had practiced every second he could at home and was holding his violin case close to his chest in the cab, butterflies already beginning to fly around his stomach.

"I'm excited! Our son's first proper violin performance." John said aloud and squeezed his husband's hand in anticipation.

"As am I, I am sure it will go splendidly." Sherlock smiled.

Half an hour later John and Sherlock dropped Hamish off backstage and went to find their seats. While Hamish nervously paced backstage Sherlock and John shuffled along to their seats. They were quite far forward, the second row from the front in fact, luckily, and had a good view of the stage.

"Great seats!" John grinned.

Suddenly a man came over to the front row and started talking to the man who was sat in front of John. The sitting man was short and old and suddenly stood up. The tall man replaced him. It seemed that they had swapped seats.

"Sherlock." John said with wide and urgent eyes.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked as he looked around the hall.

"I can't see. Swap seats with me." John urged.

"No, Going by my calculations sitting in my seat will not help your vision as the person sat in front of me is only an inch smaller than I." Sherlock said.

"Shoot." John sighed and looked a little panicked.

"John, calm down." Sherlock sighed.

"'Calm down'? Excuse me, Sherlock. But I can't see our son in his first ever proper violin performance! This is terrible!" John said desperately.

"You can sit on my lap." Sherlock said quickly.

"What?" John sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"You can sit on my lap. Again, my calculations tell me that you will be able to see, I can rest my chin on your shoulder and we will both have a perfect view." Sherlock reasoned.

"Fine." John sighed "Really, my height…" John shook his head, trailing off.

Sherlock wrapped an arm around John's shoulder and kissed his cheek tenderly then said in his ear "I love your height. Everything about you makes you who you are. And remember, being tall has it's downsides too."

John quirked a smile and said "Like when you bumped your forehead in a small doorway at that crime scene a month ago."

"Indeed." Sherlock nodded, pressed another kiss on John's cheek, then pulled away and turned his gaze back up to the stage where some choir students had started filing in.

John leant into Sherlock's side and put his hand on his leg as they waited for the concert to begin.

Once the concert began John sat up properly and Sherlock's arm slipped off his shoulder and onto the back of his chair instead. John kept his hand on Sherlock's leg quite happily. From the programme that had been sitting on their chairs before they arrived they knew that Hamish was performing near the end.

Sherlock got quite bored in the middle and that resulted in him playing with John's hand that was on his leg, holding it, inspecting it.

Suddenly John's hand moved and he tapped at Sherlock's hand and whispered "He's after this song! Gosh, I'm nervous for him."

"He'll be fine." Sherlock reassured his husband.

They waited excitedly for the song to end and as Hamish walked on stage John moved over and sat on one of Sherlock's legs. Sherlock rested his chin on John's shoulder and they both watched from their perfect spot. John quickly got his phone out and snapped a picture as Hamish came to stand by the microphone but he quickly put his phone away so that he could watch with his eyes.

Hamish cleared his throat and said "I'm Hamish Watson-Holmes, playing a violin cover of the cave by mumford and sons."

John squeezed Sherlock's hands that were wrapped around his waist "He's nervous." John whispered.

"He'll be fine." Sherlock said faithfully and they watched as their son readied his violin.

Slowly he began to play, as the tune carried Hamish loosened up and started to play more out of passion and less stiffly. Sherlock grinned as he watched his son play the instrument he had taught him to play, he felt so proud, his heart beating fast in happiness and nervousness.

Hamish got to the end of the song and you could hear a pin drop as the small eleven year old held everyone's attention, then everyone started applauding, none louder than John and Sherlock though!

Hamish's eyes searched the audience quickly and he soon found his parents with big chuffed smiles on their faces, he smiled at them, bowed, and left the stage, feeling ecstatic by the response of the audience but also very relieved that his performance was over.

At the end of the concert the parents of the children were told to collect them from backstage.

Hamish was actually one of the youngest performers, most were from about the age of thirteen and up, but Hamish was musically gifted and was one of the few who were able to take part in the concert.

John and Sherlock searched through the many children and beaming parents for their son. They found him zipping up the case of his violin.

"Hamish!" John called.

Hamish's head snapped up and he smiled.

"Daddy!" he left his violin and ran over and wrapped his arms around John's back. John hugged him just as tightly back and kissed his blonde curly hair "We are so proud of you! You were absolutely fantastic!" John said.

"Thanks, dad!" Hamish said into his dad's coat and when he pulled away he looked to his papa.

"You were superb." Sherlock smiled and opened his arms. Hamish barged into them and gripped onto the back of his papa's coat.

"Your dad is right, we are very proud of you." Sherlock said and added a kiss to where John had already pressed one.

"It was really scary and my legs were shaking but it was good by the end!" Hamish said.

"You were very brave!" John ruffled his hair.

"Hey, dad, were you sitting on papa's lap? You looked… tall!" Hamish asked, pulling away from Sherlock and picking up his violin.

"I was. I had a giraffe sitting in front of me and couldn't see." John explained with a sheepish smile.

Hamish laughed and the three left after a few people stopped them to congratulate Hamish on his performance.

When they got home they found an ambulance waiting outside Baker Street, the lights still flashing, and a crowd of people standing just outside.

Hamish dropped his violin as John and Sherlock sprinted inside.

"Hamish, dear, come here." Mrs Turner put a hand on his shoulder and carefully walked him to the crowd of neighbours.

**Author's note:**

**Ohh, cliffhanger, you're welcome ;)**

**The song Hamish was playing can be found on youtube, here's the link:**

**/watch?v=TXngYQCVfcs**

**Just add the youtube URL in front **

**Please review! Thank you!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

John had gone in the ambulance with her. Sherlock came out of the house, Hamish could see that he was paler than normal and his hands were shaking a little. Hamish pulled away from the gentle grip Mrs Turner had on his shoulder and walked over to his papa. Sherlock spotted him, put up an 'it's fine' disguise and gave Hamish a tiny smile.

"It's alright." Sherlock said and opened his arms. Hamish walked into them and snuggled his head into Sherlock's stomach in upset, in need of comfort.

"No it's not." Hamish whispered.

Sherlock's stomach did a funny in-out movement as his breathing hiccupped, he was trying not to cry.

"Papa." Hamish said.

Sherlock slowly knelt on the ground and gave Hamish an easier hug. Hamish buried his face in his dad's shoulder and Sherlock rested the side of his head against Hamish's.

"What happened? All I saw was her being wheeled into the ambulance? Is she still alive? Will she be okay? The doctors can fix her, yes?" Hamish fired the questions quickly, his quick brain wanting to know everything.

"She… Your gran suffered a heart attack. Luckily she was by the phone and managed to phone for an ambulance, it wasn't quick… the heart attack. They got to her in time, by the time your dad and I reached her side they were using these machines… but John says she might be fine… it all depends. We really, really don't know. But remember, Mrs Hudson is a very stubborn and tough woman. She won't go without a fight!" Sherlock pulled back and had his hands on Hamish's shoulders firmly.

"But… she doesn't smoke or drink… what's wrong with her heart?" Hamish asked.

"She's a seventy eight year old woman, Hamish. The older you get the more problems start arising in your body." Sherlock explained and stood up properly.

"Can we go and see her?" Hamish asked.

"Of course. We'll get a cab… Hamish, where is your violin?" Sherlock frowned.

Hamish looked around quickly and his eyes settled on his violin… well, what used to be his violin. It seemed that the case wasn't strong enough to protect his precious instrument from the wheels of the ambulance.

"Oh no! I dropped it and it's… it's ruined!" Hamish looked lost.

"It's alright, we can buy you another one." Sherlock hailed a cab and they climbed in.

Hamish had a lump in his throat. He'd forgotten about the violin as soon as he got into the cab. His full attention was on his Gran. He really, really wanted her to be okay. He could feel his eyes burning and the corners of his lips being pulled down. He didn't want to cry. He was twelve! A big boy! He didn't need to cry anyway, she'd be fine. Hamish cleared his throat, swallowed past the lump in his throat and sat up properly. He looked over at his papa and saw him biting his index finger's nail and looking out the window in worry.

They arrived at the hospital quite quickly and Sherlock marched up to the reception desk, holding Hamish's hand to ensure he was with him. It was late and he had spotted a few drunks already.

"Hello, how can I help?" the receptionist asked.

"Mrs Hudson came in just a while ago. She had a heart attack, we wish to see her." Sherlock said quickly.

"I'm sorry… 'Mrs Hudson'? Do you have a first name?" the receptionist queried.

Sherlock's eyes widened and he looked quickly down at his son "What's Gran's first name?" he asked urgently.

Hamish looked around for an answer that he knew wouldn't be there "I just call her Gran!" he said in distress.

The two genius' stood in the middle of the hospital reception area feeling both incredibly stupid and in deep panic, how could they not know their dear Mrs Hudson's first name?

"You two are silly sometimes." They heard the wonderful sound of John's voice and both looked over to the man who looked thoroughly relieved "She's in surgery now, needs bypass surgery. They say she should be okay, of course there may be complications, but we have a lot of hope." John smiled gently.

"But she'll probably be fine?" Hamish asked hopefully.

"Maybe. We have to wait and see." John said.

Sherlock took a calming breath and went over to his husband. John pulled him into a comforting hug and held him tightly; Sherlock buried his face in John's shoulder and absorbed the comfort.

Hamish walked over to them and wriggled his way between them and into the hug, John rubbed his back gently.

"Can we see her soon?" Hamish asked.

"Tomorrow morning." John said.

"What can we do now then?" Sherlock asked.

"I'll stay here, keep up to date. You take Hamish home, he needs his sleep." John suggested.

"No, I don't want to leave!" Hamish pleaded.

"Me neither. John, we should stay." Sherlock said.

"There isn't anywhere for you to go but the waiting room." John said "And Hamish needs to sleep! It's late already…" John reasoned.

"I can sleep in the waiting room! I won't be able to sleep at home! I want to know what's going on!" Hamish pleaded, pulling at John's jumper insistently.

"Well, it's up to your papa." John said with a sigh.

"Of course we're staying." Sherlock said.

Half an hour later John went to the waiting room with two teas and a carton of juice. He looked over to the corner where Hamish and Sherlock had been sat when he left them for drinks. The waiting room wasn't a particularly pleasant place to be, some people were drunk, some were distressed, some were silent, there were a range of emotions in the room and especially in the evening people weren't so friendly. John would rather Hamish wasn't in a place like this, but their son had seemed fine in the environment.

John found Sherlock rhythmically rubbing Hamish's back as the boy fell asleep. John gave Sherlock a small smile which was returned. Hamish was sat on Sherlock's lap sideways, his legs on the chair that he had been sat on, the twelve year old's head had lolled on Sherlock's shoulder and he was breathing through his mouth, a give-away sign that he was asleep.

"His chair not very comfy then?" John asked as he sat next to Sherlock and put the carton of juice on the floor under their chair.

"Not at all, he kept squirming and complaining about his back. I myself am not very comfortable. But at least he is now comfortable enough to sleep." Sherlock had one arm supporting Hamish's back and he used the other to take the tea from John and take a sip.

"I suppose in some ways he's lucky to have my height, still able to fit quite comfortably on our laps for a snooze." John said.

Sherlock hummed in agreement and said "Any news on Mrs Hudson?"

"None yet, she's still in surgery." John said and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder just above Hamish's.

"Do you remember when Hamish lost his second tooth-we were on a case and Mrs Hudson was looking after him. She put it in a special box for him, he was only four and he decorated it and put the little tooth on piles of tissue to make it all… majestic, I think was his reason. And we were back late and he'd wanted to stay up to show us his missing tooth. But he fell asleep and we got back to Mrs Hudson and him sat on her sofa together, fast asleep with a soap opera on in the background." Sherlock reminisced with a fond smile.

"What about the time we were telling him off about something to do with scribbling on a wall or something, he would have been about five. And he ran to Mrs Hudson and wouldn't leave her side. She could never tell him off." John chuckled.

"And when I burnt a hole in the carpet and we were both too afraid to tell Mrs Hudson ourselves so we sent Hamish down to do it." Sherlock added and John giggled and they fell into a comfortable and thoughtful silence for a few moments "John?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Do you think she'll be alright? I mean… what would we do without her?" Sherlock asked, tears coming to his eyes but refusing to fall.

"She's Mrs Hudson, I have hope that she'll pull through." John said and pressed a comforting kiss to Sherlock's cheek.

The three sat in the waiting room all night, all three were fast asleep at one point, John's head resting on Sherlock's shoulder, Sherlock's head resting against the wall behind him and Hamish leaning against Sherlock. It wasn't the most comfortable sleep for any of them, but it didn't matter. Mrs Hudson was the only thing that mattered.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review!**

Hamish woke up blearily, the sounds of chatter and the smell of cleaning fluid immediately attacking his senses. He groaned and opened his eyes against the harsh hospital lights that he immediately identified as soon as his brain quickened up and told him where he was.

"Dad?" he called out "Papa?"

"It's alright, I'm right here." Sherlock said gently, obviously tired himself.

Hamish was surprised that his papa was so close but he realised he was on his lap and remembered the discomfort of the chair from the night before. Sherlock rubbed his eyes and gave a weak smile to Hamish.

"Where's dad?" Hamish asked as he got up unsteadily then stretched, yawned, and sat down on his own chair, bringing much relief to his papa's legs. Sherlock slowly started stretching and moving his legs and sighed in content "That's better." He mumbled to himself then said "Your dad is probably talking with a doctor or something, he's been up and down all night, very tired, my poor man."

"Oh. And by the way, you didn't have to keep me on your lap! Did I give you pins and needles or something?" Hamish asked, gesturing to Sherlock's legs.

"Just numb." Sherlock waved him off "Were you comfortable?" he asked.

"Well, yes." Hamish shrugged.

"Then the discomfort was worth it. Trust me, I spent many hours out and about when you were younger having to carry you around. When you were four you liked being carried everywhere at one point, and you were getting heavier and after two hours my arms would ache terribly. Your dad found the pain worse due to both his old scar and the fact that he can't focus on something, my brain was better at ignoring the pain." Sherlock explained "Trust me, at least I was sitting down tonight and didn't have to carry you anywhere! But you're still small and light. I mean, I can carry your dad quite easily for a short period of time!" Sherlock added.

Hamish frowned and said "Thank you for that fascinating insight into your life." sarcastically.

Sherlock laughed and ruffled Hamish's hair. Hamish smiled, chuffed at making someone laugh.

"When will dad be here? Is Nan okay?" Hamish asked and tiredly leant into Sherlock's side.

"I don't know. And I do believe she is out of surgery and it went well, no complications. But she has to sleep and heal. We may be able to see her soon though. But she is obviously going to be heavily dosed with pain medication and even if she's awake I doubt she will be very lucid." Sherlock explained.

"I want her to get better!" Hamish said desperately.

Sherlock heard the familiar footfall of his husband and he perked up and soon John came around the corner and into the waiting room.

"Ah, both awake then." He smiled and sat beside Sherlock.

"Dad, is Nan okay?" Hamish asked desperately.

"She's doing well. If she gets past the next twenty four hours she should be fine." John smiled hopefully.

"Can we go and see her soon?" Hamish asked.

"I've asked them to come and get one of us if she does wake. But right now she's heavily dosed with sedatives and pain medication. I have given the nurses our mobile and home numbers, they said they would call once she's ready for a visitor. They say that she'll be unconscious for a good few hours yet, maybe even right into tomorrow." John explained "We really should go home now."

"I don't want to!" Hamish sat up "What if she suddenly gets worse? We need to be here for her!" he had wide eyes.

"The Doctors are right here and as I said, any change and they'll inform us immediately. We luckily live close enough that we could get here very quickly." John calmed him down.

"I think… we should go home. And hey, you can make Nan a card and we can buy her some flowers and bring her some things from home, yes? So that when she wakes up she'll have nice things to make her feel even better!" Sherlock encouraged a pouting Hamish.

They managed to get Hamish out of the hospital and back home, but he did sulk for half the journey.

John was impeccably tired, Sherlock was worried he'd just drop, but they got him home and he fell into bed, Sherlock took his shoes off and then went to the living room to start work on Mrs Hudson's card with Hamish, who already had card, glue, and pens at the ready.

At mid-morning Sherlock was downstairs in Mrs Hudson's flat getting some things that she may want or need and Hamish was sat on the sofa watching the television quietly. He felt the tears that had been brewing all day begin to fill up in his eyes, his vision blurred and his chest hiccupped as a tear fell. A sob fell from his throat. The wave of emotions had been held at bay all day due to busyness but now he was sat alone doing nothing and he couldn't prevent the enthral of thoughts and hopes and fears.

"Da-ddy!" he shouted tearfully.

He barely ever used the word 'daddy' anymore, it was always 'dad' nowadays. But he couldn't help it, it was as if he was in such distress that he was reverting to other moments of upset, most often when he was younger.

As John was deeply asleep Hamish knew his timid yet effortful shout would not be heard. He shakily made his way to his parents' bedroom, pushed the door open gently and found his dad lying on his back, fast asleep.

"Dad?" he called out, tears choking his voice.

John snuffled and slowly blinked his eyes open as Hamish approached him.

"Hamish? Are you alright?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up, leaning against his elbow.

"I don't want Nan to die!" Hamish cried.

"Oh, sweetheart, come here." John said, voice concerned.

Hamish choked on a sob as he climbed onto the comfortable bed, lying beside his dad, he pressed his face into John's pyjama shirt and John wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back soothingly.

"I didn't mean to cry! I'm sorry!" Hamish said, but he couldn't stop his tears.

"It's alright, Hay, it's normal to cry, it's absolutely fine!" John said and kissed the top of his head supportively.

The door creaked open and Sherlock walked in and stopped suddenly when he saw the state of his son.

"He's upset about Mrs Hudson." John said quickly.

"Oh." Sherlock said in realisation and sat on the bed on Hamish's other side and ran his fingers calmingly through Hamish's hair.

"Will she get better?" Hamish sniffled.

"We hope she will. I think she's a very strong lady and she loves us all very much." John said.

"But that doesn't mean she will definitely make it!" Hamish cried.

"Hamish, I can't make promises, but the Doctors have done everything they can." John explained.

"She's Mrs Hudson, she wants to hear about your violin performance so she'll damn well hear about it." Sherlock smiled but a tear fell down his pale cheek.

John reached up with the hand he wasn't using to rub Hamish's back and wiped the tear off of his husband's cheek.

"It's going to be okay, whatever happens. Mrs Hudson loves us so much, and we love her." John said.

The three joined in an embrace, all gripping on tightly to one another and absorbing the comfort.

As soon as Hamish thought he had composed himself he'd start crying again, John rubbed his back comfortingly and Sherlock spoke soothingly, trying to ease his tears, but he was almost beside himself.

Gladstone came in and jumped onto the bed, he gave a small bark and nuzzled his head against Hamish's shins. Hamish gave a sound that was the cross between a laugh and a sob and he reached out a hand to stroke the dog's head.

Half an hour later Hamish was fast asleep tucked up in his parent's bed, Sherlock and John were sat in the living room with cups of tea in their hands.

"He was beside himself, our poor baby." John looked towards the room that the boy slept, emotionally exhausted.

"I know. And remember, John, he doesn't like being called a 'baby'." Sherlock pointed out.

"Hey, you're normally the one to say it! And this is special circumstances! Normal situations require 'son' and at a push 'sweetheart' but if it's serious he is our 'baby'. It's more emotive. Like, if someone said something mean to him and we just go 'That's my baby!' and they'd just run." John explained with a smile.

Sherlock chuckled and took a sip of his tea.

"But he'll be okay. I just hope Mrs Hudson comes around soon, no word from the hospital yet." John added.

"Mmm." Sherlock agreed "Oh, and I don't think you know, Hamish's violin was destroyed under the wheels of the ambulance, he dropped it and it got crushed. We can get him a new one once this situation is over."

"Oh dear." John said "Was he okay about it?"

"Too worried about Mrs Hudson to care, I think." Sherlock said.

John nodded with a smile and was quite proud that his son had dismissed his material possessions for the sake of his Nan.

"He's a good boy." Sherlock smiled and leant into John's side tiredly.

"Indeed he is." John smiled.

They kept their phones near them all day but none called.

**Author's note:**

**Also, may I ask a favour, it will help all of us! Someone guest-reviewed on another fanfic of mine that my writing style was simple and bad and that's why they've stopped reading. I know that I'm not a fantastic writer, but I would like to be. Is there any constructive criticism that you can give me? Anything that you would like me to consider to improve my writing? See, I would love constructive criticism, not flames like the other person said though. But anyway, I hope to improve your reading experience! Please drop me a PrivateMessage and I'll try to take your points on! Thank you very much!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Thank you, please review!**

It was a whole day after the operation that Mrs Hudson woke up properly, John got a call from the hospital and soon the Watson-Holmes' were marching down the hospital corridor, Hamish was gripping onto the back of his papa's coat to keep up with their pace.

They were led to her private room and found her lying with an oxygen mask over her mouth and a lot of bleeping machines and things. Hamish went very wide-eyed and pale at the sight of his gran so vulnerable, he stopped in the doorway while his parents walked ahead and went straight to Mrs Hudson, who was awake and talking.

"Mrs Hudson, how are you feeling?" John asked.

"I'm alright, dear." She gave a weak smile.

Sherlock pressed a gentle kiss to Mrs Hudson's forehead and gave a supportive smile.

"Hamish?" she asked.

"He's just…" John looked around and found Hamish wasn't in the room, he sighed "I'll find him."

John rushed out of the room and ran down the corridor until he rounded a corner and found Hamish sat on the floor, back leaning against a wall, his arms wrapped around his knees.

"Hamish, darling, it's alright." John said, kneeling beside him and putting a hand on his head to get his attention, Hamish looked up at John with tears in his eyes "Gran is really poorly." Hamish said, his chin trembling.

"I know, but she's getting better." John reassured Hamish.

"What about all those machines…" Hamish sniffled.

"Most of them are just monitoring her, other than that it's just a drip to keep her nutrients and such up and an oxygen mask so that she's got a nice healthy supply of air." John explained "She wants to see you."

"I want to see her but…" Hamish trailed off.

"It's a bit scary, isn't it? Seeing strong Gran looking so vulnerable." John answered for him.

Hamish nodded hesitantly.

"That's alright, it is scary. But you have to be brave, yes? Be brave and keep going." John said.

Hamish sniffled "Okay." He said.

"Alright then, up you get." John helped Hamish up and with an arm around his shoulder he led him back to Mrs Hudson's room.

She smiled when he entered and held out a hand. Hamish went forward and took her hand with a smile, trying not to tear up.

"Are you okay, dear?" she asked.

Hamish gave a noise right between a laugh and a sob and he nodded "I'm okay. Are you, Gran?" he asked.

"All better now you're here. So, tell me about this violin performance! You did promise." Mrs Hudson insisted.

Hamish was about to talk but he faltered and said "No."

"Pardon?" Mrs Hudson asked as John sat down in the visitor's chair and Sherlock sat himself on John's lap comfortably.

"I can't tell you about my violin performance until you're all better. Papa said that you're stubborn and that if you want to hear about it then nothing will stop you. So, we wait until you're all better and then I'll tell you all about it! And now nothing bad will happen and you'll get better because you need to hear about my performance!" Hamish smiled, chuffed at his idea.

Mrs Hudson smiled gently at him "Alright then. We'll wait until I'm better."

"Papa and I made you a card!" Hamish beamed, his worries seemed to have lessened considerably and he was becoming more relaxed, he went to the little rucksack they had bought and pulled out the card and handed it to her. She had a look, the smile never leaving her features despite her obvious fatigue.

"This is wonderful, thank you." She smiled "Go and put it on my side table." She handed it to Hamish and he obliged.

Hamish looked around for a seat and when he found none he smiled and sat on top of Sherlock.

"Hamish!" John protested at being sat on by both a fully-grown man and a twelve year old child.

Hamish giggled but hopped off and sat on the edge of Mrs Hudson's bed.

"Would you like to sleep, Mrs Hudson?" Hamish asked.

"I'm alright for the moment, but don't blame me if I nod off at some point." She answered.

"Okay. Well, we'll be right here when you wake up!" Hamish smiled.

"Thank you." She nodded and Hamish hopped off the bed again and brought back the rucksack to show Mrs Hudson all the things they'd bought her.

Twenty minutes into the visit Mrs Hudson fell asleep again and both Hamish and Sherlock got very bored very quickly.

"Right, you two moaning Holmes's, listen up!" John said, standing up with his hands on his hips and looking at Sherlock and Hamish who were both lying on their backs on the floor and had previously been moaning and complaining about boredom until John caught their attention.

"Hey!" Sherlock sat up "We're Watsons too!"

"Yes, you are. But us Watsons do not complain! We are patient. Holmes's, you are impatient and complain as much as you can, right now, you are both Holmes's through and through. So, you listen to Doctor Watson a.k.a dad." John said sternly and Hamish sat up too with a hopeful smile at entertainment.

"Now, I am going to be your Doctor for today, I want you both stood up and we'll run some medical tests on you!" John smiled; he grabbed a stethoscope from the side and hung it round the back of his neck.

Hamish giggled as he and his papa stood beside each other against the wall at attention.

"Excuse me, young man, this is no giggling matter." John said and shook his head in fondness and fake disapproval.

Hamish tried to stop laughing but he couldn't and soon Sherlock was laughing too, John had picked up a clipboard and a pen and soon pointed the pen at his husband "You, Mr Watson-Holmes, you think this is a joke? If you continue this appalling behaviour you'll get a smacked bottom!" John threatened.

"Ohh, I'm so scared!" Sherlock mocked with a grin.

"Don't push me, Watson-Holmes. Now, let me listen to those hearts of yours." John said, he put the stethoscope buds in his ears and pressed the other end against Hamish's heart, he nodded approvingly "Nice and strong there." And moved onto Sherlock, he had a listen again "Ohh, a nice strong beat there too… though slightly faster than the norm… and your pupils are dilated, are you quite alright, Mr Watson-Holmes?" John asked.

"You smell very nice." Sherlock explained.

"Well, I think it's best that you calm down if we want to continue this examination." John said.

"Now, Hamish, sit in the chair." John pointed.

Hamish went over and sat down and waited.

John used the side of his hand and gave a firm knock to the bottom of Hamish's knee-cap and his leg went shooting up, Hamish laughed and said "Do that again!"

John chuckled and tapped at Hamish's knee again, Hamish demanded an explanation and John quickly explained.

"Now, papa's turn!"

Hamish got up and went back to lean against the wall while Sherlock sat down and John tapped his leg and it went kicking up.

"And finally, the last test is that you need to spin on the spot and say 'awooga'." John said.

Sherlock and Hamish both did as told.

"And what was that testing, dad?" Hamish asked once he'd stilled.

"Oh, nothing." John said as he giggled "I just thought it would be funny."

"DAD!" Hamish protested while Sherlock shouted "John!" indignantly.

"You two are gullible." John smiled and sat in the visitor's chair "Now, are you two bored still?"

"No." Sherlock said and Hamish shook his head.

"Good, then my master plan worked! Now, I think it's time for dinner, do you want to go home or eat in the canteen or go out for dinner, what shall we do?" John asked, swinging his arms up and down.

"I vote for eating out." Sherlock said.

"But I don't want to leave Gran! We said we'd be here when she woke up, what if we aren't?" Hamish asked.

"Mmm." John took both points in and then looked over to his husband "Why don't you go and get us a take-away, stretch your legs, and I'll stay here with Hamish, and then we can all have a little dinner in here?"

"Good plan." Sherlock nodded and put his coat on; he ruffled Hamish's hair, planted a kiss on John's lips, and sauntered away.

**Author's note:**

**Thank you so much to all of you for your support and kindness. I have decided not to worry about my writing, I am aware that I have improved considerably since I started writing fanfiction, so I'll just continue writing how I normally do but just put a little more effort into it! Please review! Thank you!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

It was a few weeks until Mrs Hudson could come home; Sherlock, John and Hamish were all at her beck and call. They didn't want her getting up or having to do anything strenuous.

They were all really happy with the progress she was making.

Whenever Hamish got back from school he'd go straight to her room for a catch-up, they'd talk for about an hour before he'd go upstairs and do his homework.

One evening, as Sherlock, John, and Hamish sat around the table eating dinner, Hamish cleared his throat to get his parents' attention.

"Can I walk to and from school on my own, please? I mean… it's only a fifteen minute walk away and I'm twelve and loads of my friends do it! I know the cars are fast here but I'll go across all the zebra crossings and be really safe!" Hamish pleaded.

John and Sherlock turned to consult each other.

"Well…" John said and Sherlock hummed, they were having one of their almost-silent conversations.

"Fine. But! You can borrow my mobile, I barely use it and people usually have Sherlock's number or the house number if they want to get hold of me. And as you have my mobile, I don't want you to take it out of your pocket unless it's an emergency, someone might see it and want to take it. And you have to be extra safe on the roads, no stupid short-cuts." John said firmly.

"Alright, I know. I am a genius, dad." Hamish said with a smile.

John chuckled and Sherlock just looked very proud.

* * *

The following day Hamish got ready for school and was about to leave for his first walk to high school on his own. John and Sherlock both fussed in their own ways. Sherlock gave Hamish statistics and information about each road and the level of risks and also the awareness levels he needed to apply to each part of the journey. John kept checking that he had everything and also kept giving him advice on what he should do if he needed them.

Hamish walked out the door and smirked, he looked up to the window and saw both his papa and dad poking their heads through the curtain and peering down at him, they had the decency to blush at their nosiness, Hamish stuck his tongue out at them playfully and the three laughed and Hamish gave a wave, which was returned, and he left for school.

The journey went quite smoothly and once he got to school he told all his friends that he was allowed to walk on his own now.

"That's great!" George patted Hamish's shoulder.

"I know! And my dad gave me his phone for emergencies!" Hamish smiled proudly.

"Really? Show us! Is it nice?" one of Hamish's new friends, Lee, leaned in and the group gathered.

"My dad said I shouldn't get it out at school in case someone tries to take it." Hamish said hesitantly.

"So…?" Lee asked.

"Fine." Hamish brought the phone out of his pocket.

"Wow! That phone looks old!" Lee said with raised eyebrows "I would have thought Doctors got paid enough for decent phones."

"Dad does get paid a decent amount, he just can't be bothered to get a new phone till this one breaks. He's had it since I can remember, and it works well, it was a really good phone back in the day and it's aged quite well, papa and my Uncle Mycroft are always installing new systems on it so it's still useable with all the new technology." Hamish explained.

"Oh. Right. Well, let us have a look." Lee held his hand out and Hamish hesitantly passed him the phone.

"What's the password?" Lee asked.

"Oh, give it here, dad forgot to tell me." Hamish said.

Lee passed back the phone and George asked "So… he gave you a phone that you don't know how to unlock?"

"Oh, I can figure it out in less than five seconds, trust me." Hamish said, he looked down at the phone, looked at the keypad quickly, taking it all in, and then tapped on four numbers and the phone unlocked.

"You're weird when you do that, you know?" Lee asked and snatched the phone back.

Hamish scowled at the boy and George said "He isn't weird… just clever!"

Hamish sent his best friend a grateful smile and they both stood beside Lee and looked at what he was doing.

"Let's see the pictures he's got on here, that's always fun." Lee smiled.

"Oh, I must warn you, my papa does send my dad some crime scene photos, so if you don't like proper graphic horror then you might want to be careful." Hamish said.

"Oh, no worries, I watch lots of horror films!" Lee brushed him off.

They started going through the pictures.

"You playing the violin… one of your dads wearing a funny hat…" Hamish cut him off.

"That's my papa… and the next picture there is my dad." He supplied.

"Right." He flicked through the pictures to reveal lots of pictures of Hamish and Sherlock in daily life, most commonly ones around Christmas or Birthdays. There were some crime scene pictures too but luckily none were too graphic.

"Eww, there's your parents kissing." Lee grimaced.

"What's wrong with that? All parents kiss." Hamish frowned.

"I suppose." Lee muttered and continued flicking through the phone.

"Aww! Look, it's little Hamish!" he pointed at the screen as they got to photos from many years ago.

The last photo was one of Hamish, tiny little new-born Hamish, Lee made the comment of "How you've grown." And passed back the phone as the bell rung.

They went to class and Hamish pocketed the phone. They went to music class, a favourite of Hamish because he was allowed to often do practical work, but he also didn't favour the class due to other students being idiots and treating the instruments with disrespect.

Today wasn't a practical day, they were just learning about composers from the Baroque era.

Half way through class every eye turned to Hamish as an irritating and repetitive phone sound alarmed from his pocket. He slowly took the phone from his pocket and saw that it was an unrecognised number.

The teacher looked at him with a disapproving gaze but he answered the phone.

"Hello…?" he frowned.

"Hello?" Someone asked back, a female voice.

"Erm… sorry, who is this?" Hamish asked.

"Is this John's phone?" she asked.

"Yes… I'm just borrowing it, who is this?" Hamish repeated.

"Tell John… that Harry gave me this number. And that Kylie is back." She said.

"Why? Who are you? How do you know-"Hamish was cut off.

"I'm just trying to regain contact. Harry gave me an address so I'll be around for tea." She said.

She hung up and Hamish stared at the phone, baffled.

"Hamish, I'll need you to give me that mobile. I don't expect behaviour like this from you." The teacher held out her hand to have the phone.

"I can't! This is my dad's phone! I need to call him, it's important." Hamish said desperately, holding the phone tight.

"Not as important as this lesson. Now turn that phone off, put it away, and get back to work or I shall give you detention." She said.

Hamish put his phone back in his pocket and immediately had a plan. Ten minutes later he put his hand up.

"Hamish?" she asked.

"I need the toilet." He said, adding the right amount of desperation in his voice for it to be believable.

"Alright, off you go, but be quick." She said and Hamish walked quickly out. He made it to the toilet then got his dad's phone out and called the house phone, Sherlock picked up.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Papa, some lady called Kylie just called dad's phone in the middle of class, she said she got dad's number and address from Auntie Harry. She said that I had to tell dad that she's back and wants to regain contact. Also, she says she'll be around for tea." Hamish rambled quickly.

"Okay… right… well your dad is in the loo at the moment, but I'll handle this. Hamish, we told you to keep that phone off in lessons, are you in trouble?" Sherlock checked.

"No. The teacher was a bit angry but she was alright about it. I just said I needed the loo and rang you." Hamish explained.

"Good. Now go back to class and we'll see you when you get home." Sherlock said "Don't worry about this… 'Kylie', I'll talk to your dad about it."

"Okay, see you later! Love you! Bye!" Hamish called down the phone.

"Love you, bye." Sherlock said and hung up.

* * *

Hamish was in a rush to get home that afternoon; he strode through the streets and was soon at his front door, he walked in and called "Dad? Papa?" Sherlock and John appeared, coming out of their bedroom looking a little bit stressed.

"What is it? Who was that lady on the phone? Kylie?" Hamish insistently asked.

"It's an… ex of mine. And not a particularly nice one." John said.

"Oh… explain?" Hamish wanted more information.

"When I was eighteen I was in a relationship with Kylie Dance. We didn't last long, we didn't have much in common, she was also a very controlling character, she wanted to change me, shape me into the perfect boyfriend, even tried to get me to have a haircut, took me to a barber shop, but I managed not to get a silly haircut for her. Anyway, we broke up and she told everyone at our school some very nasty lies about me, personal things, and they weren't true. Anyway, then half a year later I found her snogging your Auntie Harry. I managed to get Kylie alone and she said that she was with my sister to get to me. I tried to break them up but I couldn't and I was really angry at her for using my sister. In the end Harry ended it with her. Kylie tried to get to me through my friends, she was obsessed. Wanted to be my girlfriend, one time she even went on and on about our future, how I would be a soldier and we'd get married and have children and everything. I tried to keep my distance but in the end I managed to move to London for University and she left me alone, but she sent emails and such saying that she's be back and we'd be together. I haven't had contact with her since there. And now I'm worried as to what she's going to do." John said "She's too controlling and obsessive."

"Then… can't we just not let her in?" Hamish asked.

"No, that could make her worse. We must face her once and get her to go away." Sherlock stated.

"Fine. What time do you think she'll be here?" Hamish asked.

"Any time after six o'clock, I'd say." John told his twelve year old son.

"Okay." Hamish turned the television on.

* * *

At six o'clock the house was incredibly tense; John seemed to want to be by Sherlock's side all the time, anxiety bringing in the need to be by his husband. They ate dinner and all sat down to watch some crap telly together.

At eight o'clock Hamish had gone to bath himself while his parents were practically at the edge of their seats waiting for Kylie to appear.

There was a knock at the door and John and Sherlock turned to look at each other in apprehension, searching for reassurance from one another.

They both got up, went downstairs, and John opened the door.

On the doorstep stood Kylie, she wore a denim jacket, a pink t-shirt, beige chinos, a colourful scarf, her hair was shoulder length, brown, and straight. She wore make-up subtly and had big brown eyes.

"John!" she squealed and leapt on him in a hug and kissed his cheek three times.

When she pulled away she spotted Sherlock, who was stood just behind his husband.

"Hi! I'm Kylie! Is your flat upstairs?" she turned back to John after introducing herself to Sherlock, she pushed passed and jogged up the stairs happily.

John and Sherlock shared a look of exasperation.

The three went into the living room and Kylie sat down on the sofa and grinned at John.

"Good to see you, Johnny. You know, this is great! You have a flatmate! So, you have a house for two. Well, now we can pick up from where we left off, this guy can move out and this place is nice, what do you say? I know it's fast, but we're old… friends, this could be great!" she smiled.

John sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, she was so intense, it's like they hadn't been apart for decades.

"Oh, come on, Johnny! We're getting older. You obviously haven't found anyone. Well, I'm here, love! And I am ready." She grinned.

"Kylie…" John sighed and gestured to Sherlock, but at that moment a shout came from down the hall "Dad! Papa! I can't find the shampoo!"

The room fell silent.

"DAD! PAPA! I need the shampoo! The water is getting cold!" Hamish shouted.

"Coming!" Sherlock called and walked to the bathroom, he entered the bathroom and found Hamish had wrapped his arms around himself in the chill.

"Oh, Hamish. If it's getting cold just add hot water." Sherlock sighed and turned the hot tap on.

"The tap was stiff, I couldn't turn it." Hamish explained as Sherlock looked for the shampoo and found a new bottle in the back of a cupboard, he passed it to Hamish and said "Kylie is here, and has already propositioned your dad to me moving out and her moving in."

"Really? Wow, she sounds… hasty… does she know that you and dad are married and that you have me?" Hamish queried as he lay down in the bath to wet his hair.

"Now she does thanks to you shouting at us for shampoo." Sherlock said "I'm going to go and rescue your dad now, remember to make sure you wash properly, no rushing just because you want to see Kylie, get the shampoo out of your hair properly or you'll get dandruff." he said and left.

The consulting detective found Kylie and John in exactly the same positions as he'd left them, the room was still silent.

"So…" she said in disgust "You have a kid? You're gay? And you're married?" she asked.

"Yes." John said and nodded as a complete confirmation.

"So… you didn't wait for me?" she asked.

"Wait for you? For goodness sake, Kylie! We were in a very brief relationship! We were over years and years ago! I don't like you; I have no feelings for you whatsoever! I am happily married and Sherlock and I have a child together! Get over this petty fantasy and crush and move on!" John shouted in exasperation.

"Move on? I made a promise that we'd be together, I won't break that!" Kylie demanded.

"Excuse me, Kylie, but have you been tested for any obsessive disorders or…" Sherlock queried but went silent at the look of hatred she gave him.

"Excuse me, I am well. You, on the other hand… do you eat? Oh, right, does John want you to be thin? Is that some sort of thing, like a kink?" she sneered.

"No. I, personally, do not like food as it slows me down and in my line of work that isn't useful. Also, please refrain from using such language while our son is just down the hall." Sherlock scowled.

"Kylie, I am… I don't know what possessed you to think it was okay to just turn up at our home with little to no notice. And to make such nasty comments and forceful propositions. But you can see that I have a family. Please leave now. We have to tuck our son into bed, it's getting late." John gestured to the door.

She crossed her arms "This isn't good enough, Watson. I travel all the way her for you, I'm romantic. I wait all these years for you and you're… you've moved on with your life. You lead me on!" She proclaimed.

"Lead you on? Excuse you; I did nothing of the sort. I broke up with you and you tried to manipulate me through my sister and my friends. I left for University and we have had nothing to do with each other since. I never ever made any signals that I would ever even want to get together with you. Now, leave my home." John gestured to the door again.

Hamish walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a big towel, his hair wet, water dripping down his face.

"Hamish, go to your room and get into your pyjamas, you'll catch a cold!" John pointed back to the hallway as Hamish peered between his parents to look at the woman.

"Ah, so this is your child?" she asked, scrutinizing him with her gaze.

"Yes." Sherlock said and put an arm around Hamish protectively.

"Well," she looked at her watch then back up at the three "You're obviously crap parents, letting your kid stay up at nine o'clock, well, nearly nine."

"It is not your place to judge our parenting. Now leave." Sherlock pointed at the door.

Kylie stood up and walked over to Sherlock so she was stood right in front of him, chest to chest, trying to intimidate him.

"You don't deserve John. You can't give him what he wants and needs, we were good together, better than you ever will be." She spat.

Sherlock looked her up and down and let out a stream of insulting deductions about her past and present, and even some predictions of her future. She looked shocked then angry and finally gave him a really harsh slap on his cheek, he stopped talking instantly.

She turned and strode out while John was already inspecting Sherlock's cheek, checking that it wasn't too badly hurt.

* * *

Sherlock, John and Hamish were sat on the sofa; Hamish was sat in his pyjamas and dressing gown while John was ruffling his hair with a towel, trying to dry it. Sherlock was holding ice to his cheek to stop swelling.

"She wasn't very nice." Hamish said quietly.

"No, she wasn't. I don't think she's quite well. She was always a bit too… I don't know, but hopefully she'll move on, get some support or help or something. But don't worry, she won't come back." John said as he put the towel over the arm of the sofa and started combing Hamish's short waves gently. Hamish's blonde curls were in the same style as Sherlock's but they, as he was getting older, were starting to straighten out a bit more.

"You need a hair-cut." John commented as he tackled a knot at the back of Hamish's head.

"Mmm." Hamish hummed in positive "Have you checked on Nan tonight? I went to see her when I got back from school but is she okay this evening?" Hamish suddenly asked.

"She's fine; I went down while you were getting in your jim-jams. She told me to tell you to brush your teeth properly after the chocolate biscuits she caught you thieving from her biscuit tin this afternoon." John smirked.

Hamish had the decency to blush "They were chocolate hob-nobs, they're my favourites!" he explained.

John and Sherlock shared a fond smile over Hamish's head and later on that night the house was quiet as the Watson-Holmes's slept peacefully.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

In June there were two big things coming up; father's day and the end of the school year. Hamish was excited for both. He had quite enjoyed his school year but was really looking forward to the Summer Holiday, and he had his dads' father's day presents wrapped and cards made a week in advance to the actual day. He liked Father's day, he enjoyed how happy his parents were when he gave them their cards and presents and said thank you for everything they'd done for him.

On the day before Father's day, a Saturday, Hamish awoke and felt very, very sick. He felt sweaty and hot and like he was going to throw up any minute now. But he didn't want to get up in case he felt even more nauseous.

"Dad! Papa!" he shouted and curled up under his covers.

John was the first one upstairs and rushing into his distressed son's room while tying the knot of his dressing gown that was snugly wrapped around him.

"Hamish, are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked quickly, already sat on the edge of his son's bed and putting a hand on his forehead.

"I feel poorly!" Hamish said "I think I'm going to be sick!" he said in alarm.

"Alright, come on, let's go to the bathroom and you can be sick down the toilet. Goodness, Hamish, you're boiling!" John said as he helped Hamish to stand up.

Hamish gripped onto the back of John's dressing gown and leant into his side and John took most of Hamish's weight and began to guide him downstairs.

Sherlock was just coming out of their bedroom when Hamish got downstairs, their son looked very pale and shaky and he kept swallowing.

"Hamish, what's wrong?" Sherlock asked, coming to stand on Hamish's other side.

"I fe-"and just at that moment Hamish threw up. And not just a little bit, a lot! There was sick on the floor and sick down his pyjamas, and sick on John's hand as he had had a hand on Hamish's stomach as he threw up. It stunk and it did not make Hamish feel any better.

Sherlock physically picked Hamish up, though he was big he was still light and small for his age, the consulting detective stepped over the sick with Hamish held against him, the boy was shivering and shaking. He rushed into the bathroom and just in time put Hamish down in front of the toilet and the twelve year old threw up again, luckily this time it all went in the toilet.

By the time Hamish had finished that round of vomiting he could hear John washing his hand at the sink, he felt his papa rubbing his back supportively. His throat burned, his chest was heaving, his breaths were coming out in gasps and he felt very cold.

"I d-don't want to be… s-sick again!" he said shakily as he felt his heaves getting worse and more sick on it's way.

"I know, poppet, but it'll help you feel better." John called over from where he was towelling his hand dry.

Hamish started crying as he felt the urge to throw up get worse, he shut his mouth tight and his body shook and jolted as it tried to get rid of the sick but he wouldn't let it.

"It's alright, Hamish, just be sick, it'll be okay." Sherlock said gently, stroking his hair and rubbing his back.

With a sob Hamish let it out and threw up again.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Hamish couldn't stand, his knees were week and he felt limp and completely worn out. But he didn't feel so nauseous.

"I th-think it's stopped." Hamish whispered hoarsely. Sherlock was still crouched beside him, a hand on his back, stationed and ready to rub soothing circles. John was sat against the wall just beside Hamish's other side, a glass of water in his hand, ready to pass it to Hamish.

"Come on then." Sherlock slowly and gently helped Hamish up but Hamish's legs wouldn't co-operate so he just sagged against his papa's side.

"Shall papa carry you to our bed, you can stay there, it's closer to the bathroom?" John suggested.

Hamish sniffled and nodded. Sherlock swooped down and picked Hamish up so his son was cradled in his arms; the graceful man was very good at not jostling Hamish too much or cause any more sickness.

Sherlock laid Hamish on the bed and John briefly helped him sit up and drink some water.

"I think you have a bit of a tummy bug, okay?" John said.

Hamish nodded as he lay down again and Sherlock pulled the cover over him to warm him up.

"Can I have some medicine?" Hamish asked.

"I'll just get some calpol and daddy can check your temperature while I do that." Sherlock got up and walked out while John started giving Hamish a check-up.

"Your temperature is higher than normal, obviously, but not dangerously so. I think it's just a bug, have people been sick at your school recently?" he asked.

"Yeah… Lee was ill, and so was George too!" Hamish sniffled and buried his face into the warm pillow.

"Alright, well I think you'll be stuck in bed for a few days, but you should be fine. Lots of fluids and TLC." John smiled just as Sherlock bumbled back in with some medicine and a bucket. He put the bucket beside the bed and unscrewed the medicine lid, poured the liquid onto the spoon and then held it out for Hamish to take.

Once Hamish had taken his medicine he groaned and said "But what about Father's day? I don't want to be sick over that!"

"It's alright. We can just spend the day watching television and playing some board games on the bed!" John smiled and Sherlock nodded, they both sat on either side of their son.

"But me and Mrs Hudson had planned to do outdoors activities!"

Mrs Hudson had got a lot better and had recovered well from her operation, much to the relief of her loved ones.

"Well… maybe we can celebrate Father's day next Sunday?" Sherlock suggested.

"Hmm… maybe." Hamish said and felt sleep trying to consume him.

"Just rest now, Hamish, it's very early." John said soothingly and ran his fingers repetitively through Hamish's hair.

Hamish fell asleep very quickly and Sherlock and John just sat and chatted for the rest of the night, from the moment their son shouted for them they had been wide awake.

* * *

All Saturday Hamish had been up and down as his body tried to get rid of the illness, he had spent more of the day kneeling in front of the toilet then he had in bed. Mrs Hudson had been banned from 221B on John's orders as a doctor. They did not want to risk her getting ill. She was desperate to help her grandson but understood that what he had was a passing sickness, if she got it, it could be very dangerous so soon after a big operation.

Sherlock had been pestered all day by Sally Donovan for him to come in and do a case. Lestrade was off on holiday with Mycroft and Sam, they'd gone to India for a week and had already emailed the Watson-Holmes' a picture of them, very happily, at a wonderful party event. Hamish had immediately asked if they could go to India on holiday.

Sally had been fine for a week, coping well on her own in her temporary and promoted position to Detective Inspector, but she now needed Sherlock, and despite her texting, Sherlock was refusing to come, Sherlock had told her Hamish was ill but she thought he was making excuses not to work with her. But he genuinely didn't want to leave his son while he was poorly.

And on Saturday evening there came a rush of loud sounds as about fourteen police officers charged through 221B, all assuming their normal drugs-bust positions and Sally Donovan was stood right in the centre of the living room.

Sherlock, John, and Hamish had all been sat up in the big bed watching the recent Captain America film when they had heard all the commotion.

John stood up immediately and walked out, a march evident in his strong step, he was not happy. Sherlock watched him as Hamish sniffled and leant further into Sherlock's side, his head resting on his papa's shoulder. Sherlock wrapped an arm around him and kissed his blonde curly hair comfortingly.

John strode into his living room with a frown and stood face to face with Donovan.

"Excuse me, what are you doing in my home?" he asked, his voice steady and sure.

"Your husband is refusing to work with me! I know we've never got along but will he really be so horrible as to not help us when we need him? This is a matter of great importance, the public need to be safe and we need his brain to get that security!" Sally demanded.

"He isn't refusing to work with you because you've never gotten along. My husband will normally work with people he doesn't like as long as he can do his work. Yes, he prefers Greg, but he actually has nothing against you as an officer, he doesn't like you as a person, but he's happy to work with you because he thinks you aren't a bad police officer on the scale of the people who he's worked with." John explained "Now, my husband wishes to stay here to take care of our son, who is suffering from a very nasty bug at the moment-"John was cut off as everyone paused as Hamish came running out of Sherlock and John's bedroom clad in pyjamas, a hand to his mouth, his face grey, and he ran straight into the bathroom quickly followed by Sherlock calling "It's alright! I'm coming!" and everyone grimaced as they heard Hamish vomit.

"Oh… I thought he didn't want to work with me…" Sally frowned.

"You're not stupid, Sergeant, if he really thought you were so bad at your job he would have found a way to get you removed from your station, like with that fellow who was mean to him and had never solved a case yet was a Sergeant." John gave her a small smile.

Sally looked to be in thought for a moment but she soon composed herself "Fine, I understand this is a difficult situation with Hamish being ill, but I must ask, please can you just talk to him? This is a serial killer we're dealing with and we need his help."

John held her gaze and saw sincerity, she really did need help, and to come and ask for it was a big thing to ask of Donovan, she had had to put her pride to one side and think about others.

"I'll talk to him." John nodded "Wait here. But please get all your officers out of our house." John said, she nodded and he walked quickly to the bathroom and found Sherlock rubbing Hamish's back as he grimaced from the smell of sick.

"Love, the case, it's a serial killer, and I'm guessing one who could strike soon. Please, just go and give them an hour of your time." John said.

"I want to look after Hamish." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, I'm right here, and I am perfectly capable of looking after our son." John stated.

"I know, I just want to be here." Sherlock exclaimed.

"Sherlock Watson-Holmes! Just think for one minute! If you go and help solve this case then you lose an hour of time with Hamish. But if you don't someone else could lose a lifetime with someone they love. Have some humanity and stop being selfish! I know you feel you're being selfless in looking after Hamish but you are being selfish in keeping that killer out there and putting so many people at risk! How would you like it if Hamish or I were taken from you because someone couldn't spend one hour away from their family. Please, help them." John said loudly.

John couldn't help it, he did feel bad for shouting at Sherlock but at the same time he felt so strongly about protecting others that he had to say something.

"John!" Sherlock frowned in confusion.

"Please, Sherlock." John said firmly, keeping eye contact.

Sherlock sighed and looked briefly at Hamish who was heaving, his chin resting on the toilet seat that John had cleaned after every vomiting round.

"Fine." He said then leaned down to talk to Hamish "I'm just going out for a case; I'll be back soon, okay?"

Hamish nodded and John quickly took Sherlock's place and said to Sherlock "Thank you." but got nothing in return.

Sherlock and Sally were soon gone and it was just John and Hamish in the flat, John got Hamish cleaned up and helped him back to the bed and they settled down and finished watching Captain America.

* * *

When Sherlock returned he gently pushed his and John's bedroom door open to find John watching the news with Hamish fast asleep, curled up with his head resting on John's comfy jumper-clad stomach. The dad was gently stroking Hamish's hair soothingly. Sherlock took his coat off and sat on the edge of the bed, pressed a kiss to Hamish's temple and then sat back up properly and turned his gaze to his husband.

John gave him a short smile "He fell asleep half an hour ago."

Sherlock nodded in recognition and finally took a breath and said "You were right."

"Sorry?" John smirked and teased; Sherlock chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"I said you were right; don't make me say it a third time-I couldn't bear your smugness." Sherlock smiled fondly and pressed a gentle kiss to John's responsive lips, the tense air between them quickly disappearing.

"So what happened?" John queried as Sherlock repositioned himself so he lay on John's other side and rested his head on his shoulder.

"We caught the killer just before he was going to kill a man. The victim had four children and a wife. I realise that if he had died he would have left behind a lot of damage, I mean four children and a wife who works as a midwife, she wouldn't get much pay and they'd find themselves in financial troubles quickly without two incomes and so many children. Also there is the sentimental damage…" Sherlock said.

"You see? Are you glad I shouted at you now?" John asked.

"Yes. I stopped what could have been a very tragic act happening. He was very happy when his wife and youngest child picked him up from the back of the ambulance van."

"So do you forgive me? I am sorry for shouting, I just needed to-"Sherlock cut John off.

"No, I understand, John. I do. And thank you."

"A 'thank you' and a 'you were right' in just a few sentences. You may need to get me a shock blanket!" John joked and Sherlock chuckled and pressed a peck to John's neck then nuzzled into his warmth "Don't expect this often. You know me, I'll be back to demanding that you are to blame for the failure of an experiment soon. But in fairness the flies experiment was your fault." Sherlock mumbled into John's neck.

"Hey! I will not have a dozen flies flying around my kitchen!" John protested but they let it go and sat in a comfortable silence, just happy to be together.

A few minutes into the silence John nudged Sherlock and said "Hey,"

"Hey, what?"

"Hey, Happy Father's Day." John smiled as Sherlock pulled his face out of John's neck with a grin.

"Happy Father's Day, John. It's been twelve years of us being parents, and every day you prove to be an excellent father to our son, I am grateful." Sherlock smiled.

"Right back at you. I'm glad to be a parent with you, Sherlock." John smiled and kissed the man in front of him.

"Thank you, John." Sherlock said.

John just smiled and they both turned to watch Hamish sleep peacefully for a few minutes before the boy woke up and within twenty seconds was heaving over the toilet again, his parents by his side only a few seconds later, just being fathers.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**-TLC is short for "tender loving care" and is often a phrase used with ill people. You give them TLC to assist them in getting better.**

**-No, I very much doubt that Kylie will return.**

**-Sorry for the delay, I got a flamer who claimed they were constructively criticising me. They said I was sexist when I'm actually a feminist, so that was really rude. They said my female characters are all the same, and I can tell you that that was a fair comment, but if they notice, all men and women who are EXTRA characters are not very well-rounded, they usually have one purpose and may not seem like amazing characters. But I am working on the skill of adding a character in for one chapter that is as close to a real person as I can get them to be. Hamish, Sherlock, John, that gang, they're familiar characters to me so they are more well-rounded. Please, if you wish to constructively criticise me, don't insult me and get your facts straight. Thank you.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

Hamish woke up on Sunday morning and didn't feel better, not one bit.

"Dad!" he called out without opening his eyes.

"I'm right next to you, Hay. Are you alright?" A hand settled on his forehead, checking his temperature and Hamish slowly opened his eyes to find his dad sat on one side of him with a newspaper in his lap and his papa on his other side reading what looked like a case file.

Hamish shook his head "I feel sick." He pouted at his own misfortune.

"I've texted my Doctor, she will arrive in half an hour." Sherlock stated without looking up from reading.

"What?" Hamish and John asked at the same time.

"You both heard me." Sherlock said.

"But dad is a Doctor!" Hamish exclaimed but regretted it as he felt nausea rising.

"I am aware, Hamish. But when I was younger I always had my Doctor check me over when I had the slightest illness. I don't want you vomiting for two days or more." Sherlock turned a page and sent his family a chuffed smile.

"Sherlock, Hamish has a small illness. I'm giving him the right medicine and he will get better soon." John frowned "I've handled both of your bugs and coughs for many years, I am still perfectly capable."

"I know. But it is father's day, no need to work today and also, as I said, the medicine has had little effect on Hamish's state since yesterday, I want a second opinion." Sherlock explained.

John groaned and flopped back against his pillows "You always blow things out of proportion." He said with a sigh.

"I just want to ensure Hamish is healthy." Sherlock said absent-mindedly as he studied a picture in the case file.

* * *

"Good morning."

John had been running around for half an hour trying to get ready for the arrival of the Doctor. He'd showered and put on day clothes then sat for the last ten minutes stoking Hamish's hair and talking to him softly, trying to comfort him from his on-going nausea. Once the doorbell rung Sherlock had stood elegantly, put on a dressing gown over his pyjamas then made his way to answer the door.

And now, in the doorway to John and Sherlock's bedroom stood Sherlock Holmes' childhood Doctor. She was sure to have had to put up with one of the most impatient, indignant and irritating sick children alive, John was well-aware from Mycroft's horror stories that when Sherlock had been sick as a child he had been worse than he is now.

The Doctor did not look anything like the strict, sharp woman John had expected. She was about fifty-five years old, but she took great care of herself, her posture was tall and smart and she held a heavy medical bag like it was a purse. She had white hair, cropped and styled nicely, and she wore cream coloured floaty trousers and a pink flowery shirt that looked to be a nice silky material. She had kind green eyes, a small nose and thin pink lips.

She said her good morning with an enthusiastic tone.

John was sat at the edge of the bed, a hand on Hamish's cheek, and he said "Good morning!" right back "So you're my husband's childhood doctor?" he asked.

"I am indeed. And I can tell you, he was a right ragamuffin! Would not sit still for an examination, and would not stop talking and insisting that he was the only right person in the room. But I soon had him sat quietly." She walked in and leant down to John and said quietly "Lolly-pops, kept him quiet for at least ten minutes!" and winked conspiringly while John chuckled.

"Well, if you handled my husband I'm sure my son will be easier." John grinned, he felt instantly at ease in her presence and John was very happy about that, for him, a good presence was key to being a child's doctor. Children were very perceptive, you could be the best doctor in the world, but if you didn't hold a calming yet firm presence then you were virtually useless.

"Well that's a relief. I am Doctor Howard." She held out a hand for John to shake and he smiled and took it.

"That's a man's name." Hamish mumbled into his pillow.

She laughed and said "It's my last name, trust me, my first perfectly makes up for it, my first name is Daisy!" she said.

"That's a flower. Daisies are vascular plants and are found everywhere in the world… except Antarctica." Hamish informed her.

"Ah, I see you got your father's brains." She shared a smile with Sherlock. John grinned, this Doctor was fantastic! She was friendly and held a good presence, Hamish seemed comfortable with her, John was comfortable with her, and amazingly, Sherlock liked her too!

"I'll just get out of your way." John said, realising he was taking up a lot of space on the bed.

"No… dad…" Hamish moaned.

"Don't you worry, lad, your dad isn't going far!" Daisy reassured him as John got up and joined Sherlock in standing at the end of the bed.

"So, young man, how old are you?" Daisy queried as she placed her medical bag on the bed and opened it up.

"I'm twelve." Hamish said and sniffled.

"So you're at high school now then?" she asked.

Hamish nodded "It's nearly the school holidays."

"Well that'll be nice, are you going to go on holiday?" Daisy asked.

"We're yet to decide on that." Sherlock said.

"Ah." She said then hummed as she put the buds of her stethoscope into her ears "Now Hamish, first thing's first, let me check that heart of yours. I always think a nice strong heartbeat is a good start!"

Sherlock walked over and piled up some pillows then helped Hamish sit up gently.

Hamish lifted his shirt and Daisy listened to his heart for a bit.

"Well that's a nice strong heartbeat! Good!" she put her stethoscope down and took his temperature "Quite high." She remarked "Now, how are you feeling? Tell me everything, even the gruesome things." She sat patiently waiting for an answer.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick. And I'm all sweaty and hot and cold and also lots of sick." Hamish grimaced.

"Okay, and any diarrhoea?" Daisy asked.

Hamish blushed and shook his head.

"Okay, well you'll live. But I do think you've caught yourself a nasty little bug there. What you need is rest, fluids, try to eat very plain things when the nausea calms and take some calpol a few times a day, the dosage is on the packet." Daisy said.

"That's what I said!" John exclaimed.

Daisy looked up at him inquiringly and he said "Oh, I'm a Doctor but Sherlock was getting fussy because Hamish hadn't improved in 24 hours."

"Well, Sherlock Holmes, have a little more faith in your husband!" Daisy frowned and said this firmly.

"I just wanted him to have a relaxing day, it's father's day. And also I wanted an unbias opinion, I've read on the internet some horror stories about doctors misdiagnosing their relatives." Sherlock said.

Daisy sighed and started to repack her medical case while John wrapped an arm around Sherlock and shook his head in exasperation, but also fondness. "Sherlock, people misdiagnose when they're trying to prove to themselves that they're loved one is fine, it is a common occurrence, nobody wants to even entertain the idea of a family member being seriously ill. But don't worry, I won't ever try to convince myself that something is okay when it's not, if I think something is even slightly wrong with Hamish or you or me then I will take you to the hospital for a second opinion. Even one tiny little thing that could be nothing but also could be something, if I doubt myself or think for one second that either of you could be seriously ill then I will do everything I can to ensure that you get the best treatment, you'll be in a hospital bed in ten minutes, trust me." John smiled reassuringly.

Sherlock nodded with a small smile "I'm sorry for doubting you... I just worry."

"You're a parent, of course you worry. Hamish has been throwing up left right and centre for over 24 hours, you had every right to worry. If I wasn't a doctor I would have been, but I can spot a bug when I see one, and this is definitely a nasty little playground bug." John gestured to Hamish as Daisy grabbed the bucket beside the bed and held it in front of Hamish who threw up what had to be the last thing in his stomach, seriously, how much more was in there?

* * *

Once Daisy had left Sherlock, John, and Hamish, had sat on the bed and played chess, Hamish and John versus Sherlock, and then they had watched two episodes of Doctor Who, and finally Hamish said "Time for presents!" but as he tried to get out of bed his stomach shouted 'Sit Back Down!' and he scrambled back on the bed and mumbled "Dad, please can you bring the yellow bag under my bed, it's behind my suitcase." John nodded and went on his mission to retrieve the presents while Sherlock helped Hamish back under the covers and gave him a drink of water.

John returned with the yellow bag and bounced onto the bed with excitement written all over his features, he passed the bag to Hamish for him to control.

"It's a joint present for you to share!" Hamish gave a weak smile, feeling quite flimsy and tired from being so sick. He opened the bag and pulled out a present wrapped in sparkly blue wrapping paper and he handed it to his parents who sat opposite him, side by side. Both his papa and dad took an end of the present each and opened the wrapping paper to reveal a box, it was plain white. John took the lid off and inside was a transparent plastic packet holding lots of jigsaw pieces.

"A puzzle!" John smiled.

"Where's the picture?" Sherlock frowned, looking for the picture that the puzzle made as an example.

"Ah!" Hamish grinned "This is the point! If I'd given you a puzzle with the full picture to go along with it then it would be very boring, you'd have it finished in ten minutes, papa. But this one is a proper puzzle! I will say this, I went on the internet and ordered it so it's custom made, it's a picture of my choosing, but that is all I'll say!"

"Ohh, interesting!" Sherlock grinned "This'll be brilliant, John! How many pieces, Hamish?" Sherlock turned back to his son.

"One thousand!"

"Oh, excellent! Thank you, Hamish! That was very thoughtful, I love it!" Sherlock leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Hamish's cheek then ruffled his hair and sat back looking into the plastic bag at the puzzle.

John nodded and gave Hamish a kiss on his other cheek "It's a wonderful present, thank you, poppet!"

Hamish felt thoroughly pleased with himself, his parents adored his present and he'd spent a lot of time thinking of one to get them both and something they could do together so they could spend quality time together. They spent a lot of time revolving their lives around Hamish, all parts, their work life, their social life, their love life. It had been Mr Hudson's idea that they should have something to do together but Hamish had spent a few days considering what it was they could do together that they'd both enjoy.

"And now, cards!" Hamish pulled two cards out of the bag and handed them to his parents with a "Happy Father's Day!"

They both dove into their envelope and pulled out their hand-made cards. John's had a rugby player drawn on it and Sherlock's had a picture of a microscope, and both had big letters saying "HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!" on it. They smiled at their son's artwork and hard work then opened the card to read identical messages (except to who it was addressed to).

_Dear Dad/Papa,_

_Happy Father's Day!_

_Thank you so much for everything you do for me! I hope you like the present!_

_Lots and lots and loads of love from,_

_Hamish_

_Xxxxxxxxxxxx_

Sherlock smiled in admiration "Twelve kisses, that's sweet." And the three embraced in a family hug until Hamish suddenly whispered "Oh no." and promptly threw up down his parents' backs; his chin had been resting on their shoulders.

Sherlock and John both grimaced as they felt the warm liquid splash down their backs.

"Oh, Christ." John mumbled and once Hamish was done heaving they pulled away very, very slowly.

"I am r-really sorry." Hamish said hoarsely, his throat sore from vomiting.

"It's… it's alright, it couldn't be helped." John said fairly "Are you okay now? Would you like a drink or…?" he checked.

"I'm fine." Hamish mumbled and sat back against his pillows miserably.

"Okay then, we'll just get in the shower then." Sherlock said and stood up, he helped John stand up and assisted him out of his jumper after he himself took his dressing gown off.

"It's on the bed sheets too." Hamish mumbled.

Sherlock pulled off the bed sheets and chucked his dressing gown, John's jumper, and the sheets into the linen bin while John got a blanket out of the wardrobe and tucked it around Hamish "Warm enough?" he asked and Hamish nodded and sniffled then added "I really am sorry, dad."

"It's fine, Hamish. You're poorly, it couldn't be helped. I've had lots of your sick on my clothes over time; I lost count of how many times you were sick on me when you were a baby." John ruffled Hamish's curly hair supportively.

"And me, you ruined some very expensive suits." Sherlock commented amusedly.

"Sherlock, that was your own fault! Really, what were you thinking-wearing your best suits while burping a baby." John shook his head in exasperation at the memory, but he was smiling. Hamish giggled.

"Now, you settle down here, would you like to rest or should I put the telly on for you?" John queried.

"Telly please." Hamish requested.

John turned the telly on and handed the remote to Hamish "We're just in the shower, shout if you need us, the bucket is right there and there is also a glass of water. I'm sorry, I really must go, I can feel your sick drying on the back of my neck." John rushed out and Hamish heard the shower being turned on.

"We'll be back in a minute." Sherlock said "We really did love these cards and the present, they're wonderful." And he left Hamish smiling contentedly and flicking through the TV channels.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

A few days after father's day Hamish recovered from the bug, he was very, very relieved when it was over, and so were Sherlock and John. Not just because their son was better and healthy again, but also because they could have their bed to themselves again.

"Hamish, you can go back to your own bed tonight." John said as he and Sherlock walked into their room, freshly showered and in their pyjamas.

Hamish was lying on the bed on his back, reading a book quite happily and his smile fell.

"What?" he asked, putting his book down.

"You aren't throwing up any more, and your dad and I would like our bed back, thank you." Sherlock said, his arms crossing as he raised an eyebrow.

"But… I'm all tucked up. I'm comfortable and I'm not completely better!" Hamish tried.

"Hamish, don't try. Back to your own bed." John said, walking over to the bed and pulling the cover, but Hamish grabbed on and held it tightly.

"Hamish!" Sherlock raised his voice.

"No! I'm tired and I've been poorly!" Hamish pouted.

"Right, young man, you want to act like a baby then we'll treat you like one." John let go of the covers, took Hamish's book away, then with a sudden yank he pulled the covers off the bed and onto the floor, then picked Hamish up, his arms under his shoulders and knees, and he made his way out of the room with a protesting twelve year old in his arms.

"Dad! Put me down! I'm cold!" Hamish said.

"You're being stubborn. When we tell you to do something, you do it." John carried him up to his room and put him gently on his own bed.

Sherlock came in with Hamish's book and passed it to him.

"It's time for bed, so finish your page and then turn the lights off." The genius said.

Hamish grumbled but got into bed and started reading with a scowl.

"Goodnight, now no more silly behaviour." John pressed a kiss to Hamish's forehead and Sherlock did the same and they left.

Sherlock and John fell into bed together, their bed all their own again, they liked the space and that they could have their intimacy back.

They were fast asleep at one o'clock in the morning when Hamish woke up.

He sat up slowly in bed and looked around. His room was so quiet. Over the days when he'd been sick he'd wake up with his parents, the sound of their breathing and occasional light snoring was soothing. But without that Hamish felt solitary.

He got out of bed and quietly made his way downstairs, he looked at the closed door and sighed. If his parents closed their door it meant he couldn't go in unless he knocked. Just in case they were doing grown up things.

He tapped on the door and called out "Dad? Papa?"

He heard movement and waited, the door was pulled open by his papa, his hair was really messy and he was wearing underwear and John's pyjama shirt.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked quickly and checked Hamish's temperature with the back of his hand.

"I'm fine, I don't feel sick." Hamish said quietly.

"Then what's wrong?" Sherlock asked, concerned.

"I… papa, I feel lonely."

Sherlock frowned and put his hands on Hamish's shoulders gently "Why? We're right down here."

"I woke up and it was really quiet and I didn't like it." He explained.

Sherlock sighed "Come here, Hay." And he pulled Hamish in for a hug. Hamish rested his head on his papa's chest, hearing the thud-thud of his heart and the funny noises that his tummy was making.

"Can I sleep in you and Dad's bed? Just tonight! I just feel lonely on my own." Hamish said.

Sherlock looked back into his room in thought then said "Fine, but tomorrow night you go to your own bed, and maybe we could setup Gladstone's things and he could sleep in your room with you?" Sherlock suggested.

Sherlock opened the door fully and Hamish shuffled in feeling a lot happier now.

"One minute." Sherlock held up a finger then went to John's side of the bed and rubbed his husband's shoulder "John, love, get up and put some pants on."

"Ugh, I didn't need to hear that, papa." Hamish frowned.

John groaned and slowly opened his eyes "Huh?" he asked tiredly.

"Hamish felt lonely and wants to sleep in our bed for the rest of the night. So put some pants on." Sherlock explained.

"Oh… okay." John looked around and found his pants at the end of the bed, he grabbed them and put them on and then also put some trousers on and as he did so he looked up at Hamish "Just one more night. We don't want you getting into a habit like when you were five."

"I know." Hamish nodded then bounced onto the bed, snuggled down into the pillows, and fell asleep before Sherlock even managed to get into bed.

"Aww, he's tired." John smiled and brushed a blonde curl from Hamish's forehead.

"Like you, if he's tired his head will hit the pillow and he'll be asleep like that." Sherlock clicked.

John chuckled and they both lay down and thought in silence.

"Sherlock?" John asked.

"Mmm?"

"Are you… I don't know how to describe it… well, Hamish won't be like this for much longer. He's twelve. He'll be a moody, grumpy teenager soon enough. That'll mean he'll not want cuddles and he won't want to share our bed when he feels lonely." John said quietly.

"I am aware that that will happen. But remember, John, Hamish isn't like everyone else. He may not be so withdrawing from us as some teenagers are with their parents." Sherlock offered reassuringly.

"Maybe. I guess we won't know until it happens. I'm just going to miss this, our little Hamish. He'll be… our big teenage Hamish." John sighed.

"Me too. Apparently though, after the teenage years and the withdrawal from one's parents, most people's children do become close with their parents again. It depends on the strength of the relationship. Who says he'll withdraw too far in the first place anyway? Some teenagers just get more independent but still spend a lot of time with their parents, some teenagers want to have as little to do with their parents as possible, there are many different paths that Hamish could take." Sherlock said.

"Yeah… I hope he never goes too far though. He is our baby. I still remember his little cry when he was a new born." John said fondly.

"Yeah." Sherlock grinned.

"Night, Sherlock." John said after a few moments, and he reached across Hamish for his husband, Sherlock took his hand gently and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Goodnight, John." Sherlock replied and they fell asleep.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

Once Hamish was fully recovered from his bug he went back to school quite happily, glad to see his friends again and get out of the flat. He may love Baker Street, but spending days on end in the same place is a little tiring.

"Have a nice day, dad will pick you up later, okay?" Sherlock asked. He was dropping Hamish off on his second morning back at school, Hamish had gotten up too late to walk to school on his own today.

"I know, I know." Hamish rolled his eyes fondly.

"Kiss?" Sherlock asked as they pulled up by the school.

Hamish extended his cheek and Sherlock pressed a peck it in fond bye-bye.

"Oh look, there's George!" Hamish spotted his friend walking along the road.

"Goodbye, Hamish! See you later!" Sherlock called after him as he ran out of the cab.

"Bye, papa!" Hamish waved as he ran, he looked back briefly and sent his papa a smile.

Sherlock shut the door behind him and gave the cabbie his next destination.

* * *

Hamish had a relatively boring day at school, it was just writing and copying and answering questions, it was tedious.

"Right, off you go!" his teacher chimed alongside the bell as it signalled the end of the school day.

Hamish packed up his books into his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

"Hay, I've got to go and talk to Mrs Morris! See you tomorrow, yeah?" George tapped Hamish on the arm.

"Yes, see you!" Hamish nodded and made his way alone out of school surrounded by a few other people from his class walking in pairs or threes and a few on their own.

Hamish walked out of the gate and looked around for the familiar black cab that his parents always picked him up in, it was always easy to spot his car, there weren't any other black cabs used to pick up children. But there was no sign of a cab just yet, he checked his watch and realised his dad would be here in about five minutes most likely.

* * *

John rushed into the cab, running out of Baker Street. He was late, and Hamish had forgotten to take his phone to school today so he had no way of contacting his son to tell him he was on his way but would be ten minutes late.

* * *

The crowd of children was teaming with people at first but soon it thinned out and there were only a couple of students coming out of school at a time, it was getting quieter and Hamish was beginning to worry. Why wasn't his dad here? Should he just walk home or should he go back into school and ring home from the office?

A car rolled up just alongside where Hamish was standing on the pavement, it was black with tinted windows. The front window rolled down and the driver was revealed. He wore a grey suit with a white shirt and black tie, he had a few wrinkles around his eyes and his hair was silver and slicked back with grease. He looked to be in his thirties despite his traditionally elderly coloured hair.

"Alright, Hamish?" he asked.

Hamish looked around himself briefly and saw nobody around, then his eyes flicked back to the driver who was chewing gum lazily.

"How do you know my name?" he asked curiously.

"I'm a friend of your Uncle Mycroft. Your papa couldn't pick you up today; he has an investigation, so your Uncle sent me. I'm going to take you to him!" the man smiled.

"I'm not waiting for my papa; I'm waiting for my dad. And he doesn't have a case because he's working in the clinic. Now, if you don't mind, my dads told me never to talk to strangers. So could you please go away?" Hamish scowled and crossed his arms, feeling very vulnerable and uncomfortable.

"Oh, come on, get in the car. Your Uncle will be angry if I don't do me job!" the guy said.

Hamish didn't answer him; he simply turned on his heel and headed back to school. But he heard the car door opening and the man's heavy footfalls quickly catching up with him, he turned around as he sped his walk up "Go away!" Hamish demanded, panic filling him with every step the man took.

"You little git, come here." The man pulled the boy back by his rucksack then slammed his hand over Hamish's mouth and nose, restricting his breath. Hamish struggled but nobody was there, everyone had gone home, and nobody could hear his muffled shouts. He tried to use his strength to get away but the man was twice his size and muscular, it was useless.

Hamish felt his eyes dropping and his throat and lungs burning, he couldn't breathe. He became slower and slower until he lost consciousness. The man picked him up gingerly and chucked the twelve year old boy in the back of his car. He got in the driver's seat and rolled the window up with a satisfied smile, as he drove he looked in the mirror and saw the boy lying on his side in the back, his blonde slightly wavy hair framed his pale face, he looked very similar to both Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, you couldn't say who he looked more alike. With Sherlock's curls, nose and bright intelligent eyes, but John's blonde hair, mouth and face shape, he was a handsome mix of the two, angular and intelligent looking, yet he also had a mix of kindness and cuteness mixed into his features.

Yes, this was the Watson-Holmes boy.

* * *

John got out of the cab when he didn't immediately see Hamish hanging about the school gates, his eyes narrowed as he looked around. There was nobody here, he was really quite late. He internally berated himself as he made his way to the school office to where Hamish would surely be sat waiting for his dad.

John jogged a little to the door and soon found himself face-to-face with the receptionist.

"Hello, how can I help you, sir?" the middle-aged woman smiled.

"I'm here to pick up my son, Hamish Watson-Holmes. I was a bit late, sorry." John grimaced awkwardly and looked towards the waiting chairs that were empty but for a piece of gum pressed into the arm of the nearest chair.

"Hamish… we haven't seen him, Mr Watson-Holmes." The woman frowned, she was obviously familiar with the boy, though most people were, he didn't go unnoticed in this school, he was very intelligent.

"Oh… but my husband dropped him off and saw him come in…" John frowned, worry immediately setting in.

"No, that's not what I mean. He was in school all day." She said, looking at the computer register records "But he hasn't come here since I saw him leave just after his last lesson finished. I saw him walk out with the rest of his class. Did you not see him by the gates?" she asked.

"No, nobody was in sight." John said, feeling his eyes sting with tears as he felt consumed with fear for the whereabouts of his child. He fiddled with his hands.

"Maybe he walked home? He does walk alone sometimes, doesn't he?" she suggested.

"But he has the common sense to wait or come back into school… he wouldn't want to worry me." John said.

"Sir…?" the receptionist looked slightly concerned.

"Erm… just… just wait. Please." John said, he took a moment to decide what to do next, then he ran out of the school and had his phone pressed against his ear ringing Sherlock.

"Yes, John?" Sherlock answered.

"Hamish? Is Hamish home? He'd be home by now if he'd have walked, it's not that far." John said, his breathing turning short and quick as he ran around, looking for the familiar face or stature or rucksack of his son.

"No, you're picking him up. He'd wait. Why? What's happened?" Sherlock asked.

"He's… he's not here. He's not outside the gates; he's not in the school office. I… I can't find Hamish. He's gone." John's breath hitched and he covered his mouth with his hand as a tear slipped down his face.

There was silence down the end of the line. Unhelpful and frightening silence.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

"_He's… he's not here. He's not outside the gates; he's not in the school office. I… I can't find Hamish. He's gone." John's breath hitched and he covered his mouth with his hand as a tear slipped down his face._

_There was silence down the end of the line. Unhelpful and frightening silence._

"Sherlock… Sherlock, please? What do we do?" John asked, his voice shaking.

"…John…" he heard the shaking and tear-filled voice of his husband, then he heard him clear his throat and compose himself "Go to the school, get all the CCTV from outside the gates, I'll get Mycroft and Lestrade, and we will find our boy." Sherlock said firmly.

"Okay." John stood straight and started marching back to the school, wiping the tears off of his face, he still felt the insistent nag of fear and pain for his son, but now he felt an overwhelming determination to get his child back.

"And John…?" Sherlock queried.

"Yes?" John asked.

"I love you. Stay safe, please. Stay alert." Sherlock said.

"Okay. I love you too, and stay vigilant." John said and put his phone down.

* * *

When John got back to the flat and ran up the stairs of 221B he found Sherlock was sat at the desk on the computer, Lestrade was on the phone in the kitchen and Mycroft was texting on the sofa, all of them using their resources to try to help locate Hamish.

"I've got the CCTV footage." John said and put a disk on the table beside his husband.

Sherlock said nothing, he just got the CD out of it's case and put it into the computer and the couple watched, fast-forwarding slowly during when the teenagers started coming out of the gates.

"There he is! There's Hamish!" John pointed and Sherlock stopped fast forwarding and let it run smoothly. They watched as Hamish stood outside the gate, looking around a lot for the sight of a taxi.

Soon the crowd thinned and it was just Hamish stood outside the school, then a black car pulled up, they couldn't see much, but Sherlock immediately wrote down the registration number and the car make and everything he could see. Hamish was obviously talking to someone in the car, then he got defensive and crossed his arms, and a few moments later he turned away and started walking to the school.

John was mumbling "Come on, back to school, that's my clever boy…"

Mycroft and Lestrade had come over to watch too.

A man got out of the car and through the grainy footage Sherlock made his deductions.

The man grabbed at Hamish's rucksack and pulled Hamish against him and put a hand over his face.

John made a noise similar to a choked up whimper.

Sherlock stared as Hamish slowly went limp and the man picked him up and put him in the back of the car then got in the car himself and drove away.

Sherlock turned the CCTV off and turned to Mycroft who was already ringing someone and asking them to trace the registration that Sherlock had written down.

"What have you got?" Sherlock asked when his brother put his phone down.

"It's a brand new car, belongs to a Mr Robert Morpurgo. They've pulled up information on him, he is a twenty two year old bin man." Mycroft said.

"And this man here is obviously not twenty two or a bin man! For goodness sake, look at the way he walks!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"I know, brother, I know. So we can either assume that the car has been stolen or borrowed, or taken by force, or perhaps this person bought the car under an alias." Mycroft said. "But anyway, my people are following the car's movements, as soon as they have it's current location they will inform me." he added reassuringly.

"And until then? We just wait? I'm sorry, but I will not just sit around and do nothing while my son is not safe." John almost shouted.

Mycroft's mobile vibrated and he snapped it up and read the text.

"The car has stopped in the centre of Trafalgar Square." Mycroft frowned.

John grabbed his loaded gun off of the table and the four ran downstairs to Lestrade's police car, Sherlock sat in the driver's seat and John beside him, while Mycroft and Lestrade sat in the back. Lestrade handed Sherlock the key and in a few silent seconds the car, wailing and flashing, ran through the streets.

It took four minutes to get to Trafalgar Square, Sherlock had been driving so fast that he had clipped off three car's wing mirrors and gone over 95 miles an hour at some points.

They parked up right beside the car that Hamish had been taken in, the doors on that car were wide open and everyone in Trafalgar square had stopped moving and they were all staring up at the monument that stood in the square, on the highest large step of the monument, where people often sat and took pictures standing on, Hamish was stood, his school uniform slightly dishevelled from being dragged up the steps, his rucksack was still on his back, he looked terrified and even had blood dripping down his nose. John and Sherlock stopped breathing for a moment when they saw the man who had kidnapped their son was stood next to Hamish, an arm thrown over Hamish's shoulder easily, and the other hand holding a gun that was pressed into Hamish's temple.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

The whole square was silent and Sherlock slowly stepped forward.

"Who are you?" he asked, calling up to the man.

"That's not of your interest. What is of your interest is what I'm going to do to your child." The man seethed.

"Let him go, please, he's just a child!" John stepped forward.

"So? One's child means nothing to anyone else. My child meant nothing to your husband. And his child means nothing to me." The man said.

John looked over to Sherlock quickly before settling his eyes back on Hamish.

"What's he talking about, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock stared up at the man "Holland…" he mumbled.

"What?" John asked.

"Samuel Holland. Sixteen years old, murdered a bus driver. Life sentence in Prison. I put him in jail. That man up there is his father, divorced now, they have the same face." Sherlock explained.

"You didn't just put him in prison. You ruined his life, his mother's life, my life. You destroyed our family and claimed the case 'boring' before sauntering away. And yet I see that stupid blog of yours, living happy and untouched. How dare you have such a happy home life when you are responsible for the destruction of my family." He was almost shaking with range "My name is Colin Holland. And I am going to take your son away from you, like you took mine away from me. I ask for nothing but your comeuppance." He said.

Sherlock was about to say something and step forward but John put a hand on his arm and pulled him back "Colin, I can understand why you're angry, why you want revenge, I can, I really can." John said, taking gentle steps towards the monument "But take a moment and look before you try anything. Look at Hamish. Don't look at him as Sherlock's son. Look at him as a frightened little boy. Your son was sixteen when he went to prison, right? Able to make his own decisions, able to look after himself. But remember when your son was twelve. Still just a child who asks help with buttering his toast and untying a shoelace." John said "Think about your Samuel, could you even imagine killing a child, a defenceless boy? Look at him, he's terrified, just give him to me!" John said almost urgently at the end but trying to keep a calm and reasoned voice. Hamish whimpered and looked at John, wanting to reach out for his dad and be safe again.

The man looked at Hamish out of the corner of his eye then cleared his throat roughly and cocked the gun.

"No no no, please! Please stop!" John shouted, his hand delving in the pocket behind him for his own gun.

"Why should I? That man took my son away from me without a second thought, without a care in the world! Why should I give him the courtesy of thinking before I pull this trigger!" the man shouted.

"Because you're a decent human being!" Lestrade stepped forward "You know that what Sherlock did was thoughtless. But as a police officer who assisted Sherlock in that case, I know that what your son did was not an accident, he was not innocent and you know that. Hamish is innocent. He wouldn't harm a butterfly! Trust me, I know! He found an ill one in the park and took it home to make better." Lestrade said.

They could see the man, tense and shaking, looking somewhat indecisive.

"Please, he's just a boy." John said desperately.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock said shakily.

The man sharply turned his gaze to Sherlock.

"I'm very sorry for what I caused. You're right, I don't think about the impact it has on others when I send people to jail. I stand by that he deserved to go to prison, he killed a man. But with all my intelligence I should have seen that you and your wife would require support and one so young, just sixteen, would need some form of counselling and perhaps not such a harsh sentence. I'll… I'll re-open the case! I'll see if I can make his sentence shorter, have psychologists re-assess his mental state, I'll check every corner, I promise." Sherlock said.

"You can do that?" Colin asked.

"He can." Lestrade confirmed.

"I have back-up, if you don't keep your word they'll just kill your son in my stead." Colin shouted.

"Alright! He's promised! He'll do it!" John said and reached out his arms in gesture for him to let Hamish go.

"Fine." Colin said then lowered his gun and gave Hamish a shove forward. Hamish floundered as his ankle buckled on the curve of the step. Colin saw him fall and tried to grab at the boy but all his hands grasped was thin air, everyone in the surrounding area held their breaths, Hamish plundered down two stone steps harshly and Sherlock and John ran for him, climbing up the steps with haste, trying to reach their son who had stilled on the second step down, lying on his side, unmoving.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Please review! Thank you!**

John was first to Hamish and instantly put his fingers on Hamish's neck, checking his pulse. It was fine, he felt the thump-thump and that gave him some relief.

Sherlock was kneeling beside John once he'd done that.

"Hamish? Hamish, darling? Wake up!" John called out gently then did some other checks.

"Call an ambulance!" Sherlock shouted down to Lestrade, who was already on the phone.

"Oh my God." John breathed as he spotted some blood against the white stone, the source coming from the side of Hamish's head.

"Hamish…" Sherlock breathed and placed a delicate hand on his son's shoulder.

It didn't take long for an ambulance to arrive, and they quickly strapped Hamish onto a stretcher then put him on the bed and in the ambulance. Both Sherlock and John climbed into the ambulance, they tried to give the paramedics space to work.

The sirens blared and Sherlock gave the paramedics all of Hamish's information.

When they reached St Bartholemew's Hospital Hamish was wheeled out, Sherlock and John walking quickly along-side as the paramedics read out Hamish's injuries to the Doctors who came to the bed and helped them wheel it through. Hamish didn't appear to have any injuries except for his head.

"Sirs, we'll do everything we can for your son. He'll need scans, we need to find out what's going on in his brain. He isn't responding to any stimulus at the moment." The Doctor said and John said "Oh, God." And turned into Sherlock's side.

They waited in the waiting room for what felt like hours, Sherlock paced and between his fingers, held tightly, was Hamish's rucksack. The Doctors had given it to him once they'd wheeled Hamish away. John sat in the corner of the room, his hand shaking, and he kept stroking his ear lobe, something Hamish used to do when he was little.

* * *

Finally, after two hours a Doctor appeared at the door and called for them, as they walked she explained "We've taken Hamish to a private room, he is in intensive care and we have people continually monitoring him. As far as we can see he has a diffuseaxonal injury, which happens when the head is forced forward or backward at a rapid speed-probably when he fell, shearing the brain's white matter (which facilitates messages throughout the central nervous system). We've made him as comfortable as possible but I need to tell you that this could be either quite severe, which could mean loss of movement in certain areas. He may not be able to get it back. We honestly don't know what the impact of this injury will be until he wakes up. But if it is mild then if he has lost any abilities then he could regain them with therapy. I'm sorry, I can't say much more because we don't know his situation well enough." The Doctor explained.

"Can we see him?" John asked after a moment of silence.

"Of course. We've set you up with chairs and blankets as we don't know how long it will be until he wakes up. If you need any food or drink… well I'm sure you know your way to the canteen, Dr Watson." She said.

The couple were lead through the corridors and upstairs to their son's room.

When they entered they heard the beeping of various machines monitoring him, and Hamish himself lay in the large bed looking so tiny. The cut on the side of his head was fixed and he had an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

John felt tears come and didn't bother stopping them from falling, he rushed forward and put his hand over Hamish's which lay on the bed, then he pressed a gentle kiss to Hamish's forehead and whispered "It's alright, Hamish, dad's here."

Sherlock watched John and Hamish, consumed by worry and upset. He reached for Hamish's other hand which lay on his stomach and he held it gently, feeling those small fingers in the palm of his hand. The fingers twitched.

"John! Look!" he urged quickly and John pulled back from Hamish and watched as Hamish tried to hold Sherlock's hand back.

They quickly called a Doctor and she checked him over "I do believe he's waking up." She smiled, quite satisfied.

"Da…" Hamish called out "Pa…" he tried a new word then scrunched his face up tiredly and he slowly flicked his eyes open and looked around.

"Hey, hey darling, how are you feeling?" John asked gently.

"Head hurts…" Hamish said and the doctor took the oxygen mask off of him, he could breathe fine by himself.

"That's to be expected. You had a very nasty bump on your head." Sherlock said.

"I… wanna… go home." He said.

"I'm afraid you can't go home until we've checked you're okay." The Doctor said and then explained to Hamish what the head scan had shown them.

"I'm… okay though?" he asked.

"What is twelve times eleven?" the Doctor asked.

"Hundred and… thirty two." He said sleepily "Prime Minister is… boring." Hamish said before she got to asking any more questions "I… remember what happened t-today and yeesterdayyy." He added then looked at his papa "Home?" he asked, squeezing Sherlock's hand desperately but not tightly.

"Not yet, sweetheart, but as soon as we can." Sherlock squeezed back.

"Need… toilet." Hamish suddenly said.

"Alright, take it easy, and I want a parent to go with you, alright?" the Doctor said after flashing a light in his eyes and doing some other small checks.

John helped Hamish sit up gently and Hamish leant against his dad's chest. Sherlock pulled the covers off of the bed and John used a hand to unplug the machines from Hamish.

"Come on then." John said gently and Hamish started moving his legs very slowly.

The doctor frowned "Hamish, I'd like you to hold on to both of your dads while standing up." She said.

Hamish sloppily gripped onto Sherlock's arm as well as John's and once his feet touched the ground he pushed and tried to stand only for his legs to suddenly not want to take his weight.

"Wowow, alright, okay." John said as they caught him. Sherlock quickly picked Hamish up and lay him back on the bed.

"Right, you can move your legs but there does seem to be some difficulty in your motory functions. Take my hand." The Doctor held out her hand and Hamish took it "Now squeeze as hard as you can, don't worry about hurting me, all I want you to do is squeeze very, very hard." She instructed.

Hamish frowned and squeezed.

"Right, well that was weaker that I had hoped." She mumbled to herself "Don't you worry, head injuries often have temporary side-effects." She gave an encouraging smile.

"What it… it's not… t-temporary?" Hamish asked.

"We'll know more when we run some tests. And one more thing, Hamish. I'd like you to say this "my name is Hamish Watson-Holmes and I am twelve" without pausing or stammering, if you can." She smiled and Hamish took a deep breath and said.

"My name is Hhham-mish Watson-Holmes… and I am t-twelve." Hamish looked quite confused and nervous.

"Slurred speech… alright, I'll get a nurse to get you a bed pan so you can go to the toilet. Just relax, alright?" she said and left.

After Hamish relieved himself in the bed pan that was quickly brought to him he lay in the hospital bed, quite upset.

"Why c-can't I w…walk or ta-lk properly?" he whispered, tears coming to his eyes, holding onto his dad's hand as tightly as he could.

"At the moment you've lost some movement in your legs and hands. But you can move them, it's just you're very weak at the moment. And your speech is probably similar, your mouth isn't moving so easily and sharply as before." John explained "It's going to be okay. If it's temporary then we can fix this, if it's permanent then we'll support you and it'll be alright." John said comfortingly and pressed a kiss to Hamish's hand gently.

"Dad," Hamish whispered, his chest shaking "I'm sc-ared." He cried.

"Oh, Hamish, it's alright, we're here." John said and pulled Hamish into a hug, Sherlock wrapped his arms around his family and gently kissed Hamish's forehead and commented "You'll be alright."

* * *

Physiotherapy. That's what the doctor had prescribed. After two whole days in the hospital and lots of tests they'd concluded that they didn't think it was permanent, but Hamish would have to work to regain all movement and strength. He'd have sessions every day with a private physiotherapist who he'd be taken to. And his parents would assist him in everything he needed help with. Hamish could sit up on his own and pick things up and move, but he just couldn't support himself or grip things very strongly.

He had been given both crutches and a wheelchair to use for now, at the beginning it would be predominantly wheelchair usage, but as he regained the ability to hold himself up he could use crutches to walk, his arms were strong, but his hands weren't gripping enough yet.

* * *

Sherlock carried Hamish up into 221B when they got home while John carried the wheelchair, bags, and Mrs Hudson followed behind with the crutches.

"You're looking much better than when I visited!" Mrs Hudson smiled as Sherlock settled Hamish on the sofa and John put all the things away.

Hamish smiled "Thanks, G-gran."

After a few moments of despair and a lot of distraught feelings over the last two days Hamish seemed to be coping a lot better recently. He was going to try to be optimistic about this, deal with what was going on, and get on with getting his walking and speech back to the way it was. Both Sherlock and John had given him some inspirational chats, and John was able to talk to Hamish about his own physiotherapy, and how for quite some time after he was shot he couldn't actually move his arm all that much.

"So, you'll be missing lots of school, won't you? I thought you still had at least a month left until the holidays?" Mrs Hudson queried and sat next to him.

"He does indeed." Sherlock nodded.

"We hope he can go back next week, so he won't get too bored here at home, and so he can see his friends." John explained.

"Dad… or Papa… might c-come with me!" he smiled.

"Maybe. We need to talk to your teachers first, but we want him to go back to school but we need him to be fully supported." John said.

"And G-George is coming… over tomorrow, I-I-I called him in the hossspital and told… him what happened!" Hamish grinned.

Ahh, well that's brilliant your friend is coming round! That'll be nice!" Mrs Hudson smiled.

* * *

The physiotherapist was called Karen, she was a calm and patient soul, quite tall, and she would do home-sessions of physiotherapy at first but once Hamish could find it easier to get around then he would go to her clinic.

She arrived at eleven o'clock in the morning the day after Hamish got home from Baker Street, he'd already met her and had a session at the hospital with her, and he liked her-she was very kind.

"Morning, Hamish! How are you today?" Karen asked as John led her into the living room where Hamish was sat. Hamish and Sherlock were sat on the sofa looking at the case file for Colin Holland's son. Hamish was leaning into Sherlock's side and Sherlock had his arm wrapped around Hamish as they read through the file together.

Hamish looked up at Karen with a smile "Good! Y-You?" he asked.

"I'm very well, thank you. I had a nice relaxing morning, my daughter is at school right now, which I hope to get you to by next week." She said and started unpacking some equipment on the floor.

Sherlock closed the case file and John helped Hamish stand up. He held Hamish up and the twelve year old said "Where sh-should I… sit?"

"Ah!" Karen quickly got a fold up blue gym mat out of her large bag and she lay it on the floor "Just lie here for me, please." She smiled.

John took Hamish to the mat and Hamish lay down on his back. He had quite bright and focussed eyes today, excited because George was due to arrive soon and he wanted to get to work on getting better.

"Now, I'm just going to do the same techniques as our first sessions to start with, alright?" she asked.

Hamish nodded and she gently started moving his legs, stretching them to get them ready for some usage.

John and Sherlock sat on the sofa together and Hamish looked to his left at them and gave them an encouraging smile.

"You're doing really well, Hay." Sherlock smiled and reached out a hand. Hamish reached his up and Sherlock gave his rather limp hand a gentle squeeze.

About fifteen minutes later Karen quickly used an air pump to blow up a blue gym ball that was frequently used in physiotherapy because patients who can't take all of their weight can use them to take a lot of the weight and start to move parts of their body.

She helped Hamish to sit on the ball just as there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it." John said and rushed downstairs to let George in.

George ran upstairs, eager to see his friend. He'd heard all about what Hamish was going through and really wanted to help him and check he was alright.

He found Hamish sat on a gym ball holding onto a lady's hands and slowly moving his legs.

"George!" Hamish greeted with a smile.

"Alright, Hamish?" George asked.

"Yeah. Karen says I'm doing well." Hamish explained as George sat on John's armchair.

"That's cool! Loads of people have been asking after you at school. We got a whole assembly on what happened and how you should never get into a car with strangers." George said.

"But I didn't get into the car. He drugged me, I tried to go back to school but he chased after me." Hamish pouted.

"Oh, we know! They explained that you did the right thing in trying to return to school. They just used the incident you had to give us all some common-sense lessons." George reassured his friend.

"Good." Hamish said.

"Right, now, Hamish, I want you to lie on your stomach on the gym mat." Karen said and helped him move to the mat after she finished assisted him in exercising on the ball.

Hamish lay on his stomach and did as she instructed, moving his legs as much as he could unassisted.

"Brilliant. Now just a few more things to do. Mr and Doctor Watson-Holmes, can you come here please?" she asked.

Sherlock and John stood up and she got them to help Hamish stand.

"Now, Hamish, don't worry about holding onto your parents, we don't want to put too much stress on your legs. They'll hold you up and I want you to try and walk around this room once." She instructed.

Sherlock and John took one side each and held Hamish up and he moved his legs slowly, one at a time, they were quite limp and felt almost numb as he couldn't move them how he intended to. Hamish had his concentration face on and grunted with every few steps, he really wanted to walk all the way round the living room.

"You're doing really well." John said to him encouragingly and pressed a kiss to his temple.

He made it round the room then went completely limp out of exhaustion, Sherlock and John were taking his weight easily and Sherlock quickly picked him up and sat him on the mat. Hamish was fine sat up on his own, "You did brilliantly." Sherlock praised and pressed a kiss to the top of Hamish's head then he gently smoothed Hamish's waves onto his head.

Hamish smiled and after some hand exercises and then some warm-down stretches Karen left after detailing the improvements she could see to Sherlock and John.

Hamish and George spent the day chatting and watching television, Sherlock and John were very glad Hamish had a good friend like George, the boy was very compassionate towards Hamish and that was what he needed.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.**

**Author's note: Hello! Well, sorry for the 2 week delay! I was on holiday! But I have a 5000 word chapter to make up for it! Thank you for your patience and I hope you all enjoy! Please review, thank you!**

Hamish had been making a slow but steady recovery over the week. Karen's sessions worked well and Hamish was really making an effort not to wallow in misery and just get on with getting better. He could walk around the house as long as he had his crutches-he didn't hop around like most people, he just used them to hold his weight. But John and Sherlock had to hover around him just in case. His grip had improved slightly but not as much as they had hoped. His legs still barely held much of his weight, but they held enough for him to be able to mostly lean his weight on his arms and then slowly walk with the crutches-his legs looked and felt limp, but he could move them and drag his feet across the floor. He was even managing to lift his feet up properly sometimes. He wasn't in much pain which was good, it was more frustrating than painful. But he was able to walk and his speech had made a bit of an improvement.

But for a week, that was great progress. They hadn't expected him to be able to walk and talk easily in just a week. But he had made an improvement.

Irritatingly, going upstairs to his room was the most difficult thing; he had to get one of his parents to carry him up.

But he could walk… kind of. And he did want to return to school. He was finding home a little less distracting than school, so he got bored and overthought his current situation until he got a bit upset when at home.

* * *

John would take Hamish to school for the morning and then during Hamish's middle (third) lesson Sherlock would come and take John's place. John took afternoon shifts at the clinic and Sherlock spent the morning doing cases. He had relooked at Colin Holland's son's case and managed to get a few years off the sentence and some extra therapy for him in prison.

Sherlock accompanied them to the school then gave Hamish a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, then he turned to John "See you later." He said, pressed a quick kiss to John's lips, and they both helped Hamish out of the cab. With big moves like getting out a car he needed a person to support him rather than the metal sticks.

Hamish gave them a short smile in gratitude and Sherlock got back in the cab and shut the door, giving his husband and son a wave before the cab drove away.

John had Hamish's bag on his back and they slowly made their way inside, sticking to the side of the crowd so as not to be jostled. Lots of people turned a curious eye to the pair as they walked.

"What class do you have first?" John asked.

"Ummm… E-English." Hamish answered after a moment's thought.

"Ahh, I always liked English." John commented as they walked into the building, they were just on time so they went straight to Hamish's English classroom.

The class were all bunched around the door, waiting to get in.

"Hamish!" George was the first to spot him, he ran over and gave Hamish a delicate hug while everyone else called their hellos and such.

John gave a small smile, happy Hamish's class -so far- seemed like a nice bunch of people.

"Hello." Hamish smiled when George pulled away.

"Are you thirsty, Hay?" John asked quickly and started looking through Hamish's school bag.

"Mhmm." Hamish nodded. As the water bottle was full and heavy John knew Hamish wouldn't be able to hold it up himself so he gave an apologetic look to his son then held it out for Hamish to drink. Hamish took a few sips, and then pulled away with an "Ahh."

"Right, class, in you come!" The English teacher, Mrs Myles-Hamish informed John, finally ushered her class in, briefly telling John to grab a chair and sit beside Hamish and that she knew all of what was going on.

Hamish sat in the middle of the classroom and John took a moment to put Hamish's bag on the table, then take Hamish's crutches off of him, Hamish almost fell but John quickly caught him and lowered him into his chair.

"There we go, alright?" John asked.

"Y-yeah." Hamish nodded and started unpacking his bag, his movements sloppy and tired-looking.

John grabbed a spare chair from the back and sat it in the aisle beside Hamish.

"Good morning, class. We are pleased to have Hamish back here! And we welcome Doctor Watson-Holmes, Hamish's father, to the class. Don't worry; he's just here to support Hamish." Mrs Myles smiled, she was quite a young teacher and she seemed nice.

John was writing in Hamish's stead, Hamish's handwriting was atrocious-he couldn't hold the pen tight enough.

The class was quite quiet for the first fifteen minutes as they did some "warm-up" exercises, just looking through some texts.

The teacher rambled on about the different forms of texts in the modern era-books, poems, posts, letters, emails.

"And also, blogs!" she said cheerfully "Now, we have a very experienced writer in our presence today, Doctor Watson?" she looked to John.

John was quite startled and he just said "Ummm…"

"Would you like to come up here and talk about your blog writing to the class?" she asked.

John felt like he was a student again.

"O-okay." He said, a little wide-eyed, he took a moment to compose himself then said to Hamish "Alright?" and Hamish nodded.

The teacher had already set up the interactive white board and got the internet up, she typed in the URL to John's blog and it loaded the page.

The teacher pointed at the board "As you can see, all this links to original story telling, like a book really. Here we have the blurb "I am an experienced medical doctor returned from Afghanistan. Husband to consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, and a Father.", it gives you a clue to the possible content of the blog-medical content, military, marriage, fatherhood, and of course detectives. Now, Doctor Watson, if you'd like you could explain how this came about and even go through a blog post with us, if you want to, of course." Mrs Myles smiled encouragingly and John nodded and stood quite straight but Hamish could tell he was a bit nervous.

"Well, when I returned from Afghanistan I suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder… I still do. And my therapist said I needed to start a blog, get out my thoughts and feelings and experiences of civilian living. I was so used to being a soldier that I didn't know how to be anything else. So I suppose she wanted me to take it day by day and in the end see what I've done by looking at the blog." John explained then started to gain confidence, he moved over to the computer and scrolled down to show the children his first few posts, "As you can tell I was very… I didn't like the idea of a blog, I thought it was quite silly and pointless. I didn't understand how on Earth it would help me. And then I met Sherlock and my life got a bit more interesting… well a lot more interesting, so I started to write properly, I didn't think about it at the start, but they were becoming little stories." John explained.

A girl in the back put her hand up.

"Yes?" John asked with a smile.

"Can you show us a blog entry?" she asked brightly.

"Oh, yes, of course!" John smiled and scrolled up for a suitable post, he informed them all "you see, the job my husband and I do isn't always very pleasant, crimes never are, so I'll try one for you all that isn't too graphic in descriptions or anything." As he scrolled up someone called out "Ohh, that one, Doctor Watson!"

"Which one?" John queried.

"'Baby clues'!" he said.

"Oh yes, that one's alright." John clicked on it and the page loaded to the title "Baby Clues" and a picture of Sherlock and Hamish. Hamish was a baby, sat in Sherlock's arms with a full-body rain coat on, and a little rain hat. Sherlock wore his normal coat and his hair stuck to his head in the rain. Hamish looked quite content and warm in Sherlock's arms, Sherlock had even tucked Hamish slightly under his coat. Sherlock however was pouting in the rain.

"Who wants to read it?" Mrs Myles grinned.

"Me!" the same girl at the back had her hand up again.

"Alright, Stephanie, read away!" Mrs Myles smiled.

"_Not much to say with this case, it was more amusing than interesting. We'd been waiting for [blank] to give us a case for ages! Sherlock had been rather bored but Hamish kept him amused. We have a crawling baby, which is both wonderful and worrying. So far Hamish has picked up and attempted to eat [blank's] warrant card, my wallet, and Sherlock's violin wax. The furthest he got with any of them was just a saliva-ey mess, thank God. And I caught him as the wax block made it's way to his mouth so he didn't get to try that._

"_But still, Sherlock needed a case, he was nearly verging into some dangerous experiments. I got up just last weekend and went to make myself some tea and found flour all over my kitchen and Sherlock, and Hamish. You should have seen the look on their faces when I walked in! Sherlock looked purely guilty and Hamish looked positively gleeful-getting to spend the morning ruining the kitchen with his papa._

"_So [blank] gave us a moderately interesting case (Sherlock's words, not mine). The case involved a father kidnapping their baby daughter from her mother in the night-he hadn't been given custody and was pretty mad about it._

"_We turned up at the house and Mrs Hudson had gone to the gardening centre so we had to bring Hamish along with us. The flat was really quite small but nicely decorated. I put Hamish on the floor (the forensic team had done their work and Hamish was getting fidgety). Sherlock was getting particularly irritated with everything and everyone because he couldn't find anything, the only deductions he could make could be found out by the forensic results or simply asking the mother._

"_The noise that came from Sherlock was one I had never heard before. It was a delighted squeal and the whole room fell silent. He suddenly ran over to Hamish, picked him up and threw him in the air and caught him in happiness. It turns out Hamish had picked up a child's toy that was memorabilia from London Zoo, a clue as to where the guy had taken his daughter._

"_To cut a long story short we caught the man by the shark tank, just sitting and watching with the child on his lap. He didn't struggle; I think he'd lost a lot of hope, poor fellow. Hamish took quite a liking to the girl when we took her off of him, he kept chatting away to her in his baby-talk. She was equally as chatty too and Sherlock got a bit of a headache because they were squealing and gurgling so loudly. _

"_We got the little girl back to her mum and just as we stepped outside the heavens opened and it poured with rain. And here I have a pouting and grumpy husband and a happy-Hamish. When we got home we were all soaked through and now I have Hamish and Sherlock with the sniffles-neither of them are good patients but I wouldn't expect anything else really."_

The class gave a small round of applause and Hamish blushed at a story from when he was a baby, the girls all turned to grin at him and the boys smirked.

"So, Doctor Watson, that was a delightful little tale. Where did you learn to write?" Mrs Myles asked.

"Oh, well English was always my favourite subject at school but I never had an ambition to write. I just got told to write a blog and I did and people have taken a liking to it." John smiled.

"You see, children, writing comes to people in many ways and we've all been blessed that Doctor Watson has shared some of his interesting tales with the world." Mrs Myles smiled and John went to sit back down beside Hamish.

* * *

After a boring and uneventful second lesson in Design Technology, it was soon break time.

"Where do you go for break?" John asked.

"Th-the play-ground."

"Ah, I'm actually quite enjoying today, you know. I've always wanted to see how you are in high school." John commented as they made their way outside.

Hamish slowly walked across the playground beside John and felt his arms tiring.

"Alright?" John checked.

"Yeah… just have t-to mak-ke it to the bench." Hamish grunted.

John put a hand on Hamish's back gently for support "If it's too much just tell me and I can help."

"No, dad, I'm fine." Hamish frowned.

"Alright, alright." John sighed and Hamish made it to the bench and sat down tiredly.

"That was good, but I don't want you straining any muscles." John admonished.

Hamish let it go and John sat beside him.

"What do you normally play?" John asked.

"Sometimes people bring tennis balls in and we play catch. Or we just chat. Or perhaps play football." Hamish explained as people started filling up the playground.

"That sounds fun." John smiled.

Hamish nodded.

About ten people rushed over to Hamish, about seven girls and three boys.

"Hamish! We're all really glad you're back! What's wrong with your legs?" a girl asked excitedly.

"I hit my head and I've lost some movement but I'm going to get it back." Hamish explained, looking a little confused at the interaction with all these people he didn't really know that well.

"Oh, well I'm glad you'll get it back. Why is your dad here?" she asked.

"In case I need help. I can't grip things in my hands so I can't write. And if I can't walk any more I need someone to help me." Hamish explained a little shyly.

"Ah, cool. It's nice to meet you, Hamish's dad!" she turned her gaze to John.

"Ah, thank you. Are you one of Hamish's friends?" John asked.

"No." Hamish said as she said "Yep!"

"Right…" John looked thoughtfully between the two then said "well I'm hungry." And he looked through Hamish's rucksack and got Hamish's lunch box out of the bag and put it on his lap and started going through the rather packed container-they'd packed for two people today.

"So, are you alright?" a boy piped up, they didn't seem to want to go away.

"Yeah." Hamish nodded.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" John asked-since the incident the endearments had come around again, Sherlock and John both used things like 'sweetheart' and 'darling' when feeling particularly like they needed to give Hamish comfort.

Hamish blushed bright red and some people in the group sniggered "Oh, sorry." John grimaced, noticing what he did.

"Umm… ap-ple." Hamish requested.

John passed Hamish an apple and the boy bit into it and ate slowly. Along with the speech difficulties he needed to be careful when he ate so he didn't make a mess.

"Why do you talk like that? All… stammer-ey?" a rather small girl asked.

"Along with losing leg movement and the ability to grip, Hay also finds it difficult to talk." John said, swiped a hand through Hamish's curls, smoothing them against his head. Hamish waved his hand away and scowled as he ate.

"Re-member, dad, an a-apple a day ke-eps th-th-the doctor awwway." Hamish smirked.

John chuckled "Did you know that that's the reason your papa won't eat apples. He has some crazy antics, but he's almost convinced that it's possible that if he ate an apple every day I'd disappear. He says that all superstitions and rhymes and such have a basis." John said.

Hamish giggled and nodded "I know."

George finally turned up and sat beside Hamish on the bench then frowned when he saw thr group of other students crowded around, just watching and chatting "What are you all doing here?" George frowned.

"We're just chatting to Hamish!" A guy excused them.

"No you're not. You've never been interested in him before. Just because he has crutches and things going on in his life doesn't mean you can stick your nose in where it isn't wanted. You just want gossip. Now go away." He crossed his arms.

"George!" A girl scowled.

"I mean it! Leave my friend alone, he doesn't need you lot hanging around him just for your own selfish wants and needs." George said firmly.

The group went away quite morosely.

"You know what?" John smiled leaning over Hamish to talk to George.

"What?" George said, looking up at Hamish's dad with curiosity.

"I am really, really glad Hamish has a friend like you. It really means a lot to me that he has a friend who will look after him." John smiled.

George smiled proudly but shyly "It's alright." He said.

"Thanks for making them go away, mate." Hamish smiled.

"That's okay! Those lot are a bunch of conniving idiots anyway. When Tom from the other class broke his foot they hung around him all day and then told the whole school about a hundred different versions of as to how he broke his foot. They're just gossipers. Like mini school paparazzi." George said and Hamish laughed.

* * *

The third lesson was History with Mr Wilson. Hamish was last to arrive and John had a quick chat with Mr Wilson about how his husband was going to come and swap with him about half way through the lesson.

The class sat down and John pulled up a chair beside Hamish in the middle row but to the side of the classroom. He wrote down all the teacher asked them to and as they bumbled through the lesson John and Hamish talked quietly about the subject.

At about twelve o'clock Sherlock was due to arrive and right on time there was a knock on the door. Mr Wilson quickly marched over and opened the door.

"Ahh, Mr Watson-Holmes, I presume?" he asked.

"Yes." Sherlock said and entered, his strong presence making the class fall silent and stare at him.

"Just on time." John stood up.

"Of course." Sherlock nodded and moved forward, swinging his coat off and onto the back of the chair John had been sat on.

"Have you had a nice day with dad?" Sherlock asked Hamish, ruffling his hair in greeting.

Hamish nodded and Sherlock smiled in satisfaction.

"Well, I'll be off to work. Sherlock," John called and Sherlock looked at him "I mean this in all seriousness, please, for goodness sake, do not make one of Hamish's teachers or peers cry!" John said rather sternly.

"Now why would I want to do that, my dear?" Sherlock sat down and relaxed back, having a quick look at what had been written in Hamish's history book so far.

"Because I don't want people complaining again." John said.

"I'll do my best." Sherlock said with an angelic smile.

"Good. Fish and chips tonight?" John quickly asked then added to the teacher "I'll be going in just a moment, sorry, just one moment!"

"Sausage in batter for me and chips." Sherlock requested.

"Got it, Hamish?" John asked.

"F-fish." Hamish said.

"Fish what?" John asked.

"Pl-ease." Hamish said and the class sniggered at his slight berating.

"Good. See you later." John leaned over the desk and pressed a kiss to Hamish's forehead and he got a loud and indignant "Dad!" from his twelve year old son.

"Sorry, grumpy." John smirked then pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock's lips and left, but just before he got to the door Sherlock called after him and he turned.

"What?" John asked.

"You forgot your phone at home." Sherlock said and held it out for him to take.

"Ah, life savour. See you!" John grabbed the phone and rushed out.

Sherlock sat up straight in his chair and the class continued.

"Papa, you have to write everything he says!" Hamish whispered to Sherlock.

"What? Why? Can you not just remember it?" Sherlock frowned.

"I can, but the teachers get annoyed when I have nothing written in my books." Hamish explained.

"Oh, well would you like me to talk to them. It isn't your fault you're a genius." Sherlock frowned.

"Don't worry about it. My notes have actually assisted others who didn't understand the lesson in the past, so they do hold some use." Hamish said.

"Right, okay then." Sherlock said and started writing.

* * *

At the end of an uneventful lesson Sherlock helped Hamish stand and they slowly made their way through the corridors to the dinner hall. When they arrived many turned to look at Hamish and his papa. Sherlock didn't like the attention but he chose to focus his attention on Hamish instead "How has your first day been, physically are you feeling under any strain, your arms? Your legs? And mentally are you alright?" Sherlock asked.

"My arms hurt a bit, and my legs are a bit tired. But I'm fine. And I've actually kind of enjoyed today. The lessons were fun with dad there. In English the teacher made him show everyone his blog, the post 'baby clues', dad went quite red." Hamish giggled and Sherlock smirked at the imagining of the scene.

"Your dad does amuse me so." Sherlock smiled "and I'm glad you're alright. If it gets too much for you, as we discussed this morning, I can take you home."

"I know." Hamish nodded and they sat to start eating.

Sherlock huffed but smiled fondly when he opened Hamish's lunch box.

"What?" Hamish asked.

"Your dad is rather mischievous. He's put my favourite sandwich in here for me, and he's also put a little note in here, it reads _'Dear Sherlock and Hamish, eat all your lunch or I'll destroy the experiment in the airing cupboard that you think I don't know about. Lots of love, John. Smiley face, kiss, kiss.'_"

"I thought you said dad wouldn't find the egg experiment!" Hamish said.

"I thought he wouldn't. John isn't scheduled to look at that part of the airing cupboard until he changes the bed covers and that's in four days' time." Sherlock seemed quite chuffed at his husband outwitting them "But anyway, what lesson is next?" Sherlock asked as they both started eating their sandwiches.

"Science." Hamish said.

"Ohh, the only class I could ever marginally tolerate when I was at school. Well… I never really involved myself with the class; I usually went off and did my own thing with the resources I could find." Sherlock said.

"I tried that… they locked the cupboards." Hamish pouted and Sherlock chuckled.

George bounded over and sat beside Hamish happily "Had a good day, mate? Afternoon, Mr Sherlock!"

"Good afternoon, George." Sherlock nodded.

"I had a good day, you?" Hamish asked.

"It was alright, classes were pretty boring though." George pouted "But I'm glad you're back! It's been very boring without you!"

"Aww, thanks, mate!" Hamish smiled.

* * *

After lunch the three made their way to the science classroom, George and Hamish were chatting away and they turned a corner to go to class when Hamish suddenly stopped and the three stopped walking.

"What is it?" George asked.

"He can't walk up stairs." Sherlock answered for Hamish. To the science classroom there were quite a few steps; Hamish's classmates were all standing on a step each, waiting to go into class.

"Papa, I want to go home." Hamish said.

"What? No you don't, you just don't want to have to be carried. Look, Hamish, this won't be the last time you encounter steps while with your current walking difficulties. You're going to have to have some courage, swallow your pride, and let me carry you." Sherlock said.

Hamish looked at the stairs and then to George who said "It's alright, Hay." with a shrug.

"Fine. George, please can you hold my crutches and rucksack?" Hamish asked.

"Sure," George took the crutches and the rucksack and started making his way up the stairs.

Hamish was currently being held up by Sherlock.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked, he could feel Hamish's reluctance but he needed to go to class.

"Yeah." Hamish nodded.

Sherlock picked Hamish up, his arm supporting Hamish's back, his other arm under his knees. Hamish avoided the eyes of his classmates by staring at a button on his papa's shirt.

When they reached the top Sherlock gently put Hamish down and kept him steady as George passed Hamish his crutches and then Sherlock the rucksack.

"See? Not so bad." Sherlock said quietly.

"I want to go home." Hamish pouted.

"If you really do then ask me again in half an hour." Sherlock said.

* * *

Once Hamish was sat in class with his papa sat beside him the teacher told them to all turn the computers on and do a powerpoint on their favourite topic so far that year. Hamish turned the computer on and started working with help from his papa.

In the corner of the classroom a group of five were sniggering and whispering to each other. There were two girls and three boys and they kept looking over to Sherlock and Hamish.

Sherlock clued in on it quite quickly and listened closely to what they were saying "He's such a daddy's boy…" "Which dad though?" "Both of them. He's such a goodie-two-shoes. And his dad there is all posh, bet Hamish had a freaking golden potty." They all giggled "They're all a bit weird though, aren't they? I mean the posh dad's all stare-ey and thinks he's all big and scary, and the small dad… how can he want to live with those genius', doesn't he feel inferior? And then there's Hamish, well we all know what an irritating freak he is." "Be fair, mate, he's just got out of hospital…" "Whatever." And they fell quiet to carry on with their project briefly.

Sherlock scowled and sat a little closer to Hamish, protective parenting instincts kicking in.

* * *

Fifteen minutes into the lesson Sherlock needed the toilet and quickly excused himself.

"Alright, Hamish?" Vivienne, a girl with a rolled-up skirt and shoes that weren't technically allowed in school stood beside Hamish.

"Yes… th-thanks." Hamish stammered.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asked and giggled.

"Nnno, I have a sp-speech pro-blem." Hamish said, not looking up as he continued to slowly type on the computer.

"They're all talking about you over there-"Hamish cut her off.

"I d-don't care." He said sharply and she huffed and left.

Just moments later Hamish was pushed off of his stool by Samuel, Vivienne's boyfriend.

"EXCUSE ME!" Everyone froze at the distraught sound from the doorway, they looked up to see Sherlock Watson-Holmes, furious "HOW DARE YOU PUSH MY SON!" He shouted, livid.

Sherlock strode over to Hamish and stood him up quickly and supported him standing, Hamish leaned into Sherlock's side, he only came up to Sherlock's rib-cage and was a rather small twelve year old. Sherlock had an arm around his back holding him up.

"YOU IMBECILE! How very dare you shove a child off of a stool when you know full well that he is currently not able to support himself properly. Just because your mother is cheating on your father, who in turn is also cheating on your mother, that does not mean you take out any anger and resentment on my son. You nasty little boy, thinking you're big and scary, thinking you'll impress everyone by being horrid, but you're just a little boy desperate for attention. And by the way, your girlfriend doesn't actually feel any attraction towards you whatsoever." Sherlock said quickly.

There was silence but for a pen dropping on the floor.

"You're… you're horrible!" Samuel said, tears in his eyes.

"I'm honest. And you, boy, are horrible. Apologise to my son now!" Sherlock demanded.

"S-sorry, Hamish." Samuel said before running out of the classroom, the teacher running after him.

"Papa!" Hamish exclaimed.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"You shouldn't h-have done that." Hamish said gently.

"Hamish, he shoved you off of a chair and you are vulnerable. Nobody bullies my child and gets away with it. He deserves some discipline, his parents let him run riot as a child." Sherlock added to his list of deductions.

"Dad won't b-be happy th-at you ups…upset someonnne. You'll get… complaints." Hamish tried.

"Then I can return those complaints and also your dad's upset with the simple truth that he shoved you off of a chair, he initiated this interaction and he is not without fault." Sherlock said.

Hamish sighed "I su-suppose sso. B-but go and sa-say sorry… I don't w-want h-h-him to be toooo sad."

Sherlock sighed "Fine, I will apologise for revealing his private business in front of his peers and for saying certain not-nice things. But I will inform him that what he did was wrong." Sherlock said, settled Hamish back on the chair then went out to the corridor where the boy was crying.

Samuel looked up at Sherlock fearfully "I apologise for causing you distress and revealing your private business to the class. But what you did to my son was wrong. Hamish is unwell, you are aware of that. You do not know the full extent of his injuries, you could have caused him a lot of pain, you are lucky he isn't injured in a way where that can happen too easily." Sherlock said.

"O-okay." Samuel sniffled and wiped his eyes.

"And honestly, you need to talk to your parents about their situation or it'll get worse." Sherlock said and turned on his heel to leave but Samuel stopped him and said "Tell Hamish I really am sorry."

"Thank you." Sherlock said and left. "He said he really is sorry." He said to his son as he sat down.

"Ahh, o-okay. Will you check th-through my slide-sh-ow?" Hamish asked brightly, over the incident quickly.

"You're very much like your dad, you know." Shelock commented.

"How?" Hamish asked.

"You're very caring. I wouldn't have apologised to that boy. John would have made me just as you did because you're both better than me." Sherlock said.

"P-papa, you're re-ally good too." Hamish said.

"I am better with you and John by my side." Sherlock said and started reading the power point.

Hamish gave a small smile and turned to chat with George about the incident.

* * *

When John arrived home he found Hamish and Sherlock sat on the sofa, fast asleep. John smiled, got a blanket from where it was draped over his armchair and he gently draped it over his family.

"They're all tired out, hey, aren't they, Gladstone?" John commented quietly to the dog who was sat by Sherlock's feet.

John pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads and went to read a book for a bit.


End file.
